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THE CAR OF DESTINY 



THE 


AR OF DESTINY 

/ BY 

C. N.tf AND A. M. WILLIAMSON 



NEW YORK 

McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 
MCMVI 


TZ 3 

yr<*y}Q. 


UBRARY of CONGRESS 
TwoCocies received 

SEP 14 1906 

«pm?ht Entry 

/ 3 ./ 90 & 

CLASSf AAC. No. 

ysssg’/ 

COPY A. 


Copyright , 1906, by 

McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 


Published, 


, 1906 


I 


THE KING’S CAE 



OTOR to Biarritz ? You must be mad,” said Dick 
Waring. 

“ Why ? ” I asked; though I knew why as well 
as he. “ A nice way to receive an invitation.” 

“ If you must know, it’s because the King of Spain will be there, 
visiting his English fiancee,” Dick answered. 

“ I wish him happiness,” said I. “ I hear he’s a fine young fel- 
low. Why isn’t there room in Biarritz for the King and for me ? ” 

“ The detectives won’t think there is, nor will they give you 
credit for your generous sentiments,” said Dick. 

“ They won’t know I’m there.” 

“ They knew when you went to Barcelona, from Marseilles.” 

This was a sore subject. It is not my fault that my father was 
as recklessly brave a general, and as obstinately determined a 
partisan as Don Carlos ever had. If I had been born in those days, 
it is possible that I should have done as my father did ; but I was 
not born, and therefore not responsible. Nor was it the King’s 
fault that we lost our estates which my ancestors owned in the 
days of Charles V ; nor that we lost our fortune, we Casa Tri- 
anas; nor that my father was banished from Spain. For the King 
was not born, therefore he was not responsible ; so why should I 
j blame him for anything that has happened to me ? 

( It was perhaps ill-judged to visit my father’s land, since to 
'him it had been a land forbidden. But a few months after his 
Ideath, when I was twenty -one, the longing to see Spain had be- 
come an obsession. And it must have been my evil star which 

3 


4 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


influenced an anarchist to throw a bomb at a royal personage on 
the very day I arrived at Barcelona, thinly “ disguised ” under 
an English name. 

My identity was discovered at once, as the son of the great dead 
Carlist. I was suspected and clapped into a cell, to wait until my 
innocence could be proved. This was not easy; but, on the other 
hand, there was no proof against me; and after an experience 
which scourged my pride and emptied my purse, I was released, 
only to be politely but firmly advised never again to show the 
undesirable face of a Casa Triana in Spain. 

It was after this that I flung myself off to Russia, and through 
friendly influence got a commission in the army. I had some ad- 
ventures in the Boxer rising; and though Heaven knows I have 
no grudge against the Japanese, the fight I made later on the 
Russian side gave me something to do for two years. After the 
Peace with Idleness, came the motor mania, and I thought of 
nothing else for a time. But when you have run your car for 
months, motoring for its own sake ceases to be all in all. You ask 
yourself what country you would like best to visit with the ma- 
chine you love. 

Pride kept me from answering that question with the name of 
“ Spain ” ; but it was because Biarritz is at the door of Spain that 
I had just invited Dick Waring — the best of friends, the most 
delightful of Americans, who fought side by side with me, for 
fun, in China — to drive there in my Gloria car. 

“Yes, they knew when I went to Barcelona,” I admitted; for 
Dick was familiar with the story. “ But that was different. Any- 
how, I’m going to Biarritz, whatever happens. You can do as 
you like.” 

“ If you will go, I’ll go too,” said Dick ; “ and if anything 
happens I’ll be in it with you. But you may regret your 
rashness.” 

“ I’ve never yet regretted rashness,” I said. “ Things done on 
impulse always turn out for the best.” 

So we started from Paris the next day, and had a splendid run. 


THE KING’S CAR 5 

through scenery to set the spirit singing in tune with the thrum- 
ming of the motor. 

Whatever was to happen in Biarritz, and I was far enough 
from guessing then, nothing happened by the way; and we arriv- 
ed on a morning of blue and gold. 

We put up at a private hotel out of the way from fashionable 
thoroughfares ; and, as my childhood and early youth were passed 
in England, I could use an English name without making myself 
ridiculous by a foreign accent. As for my brown face and black 
eyes, many a Cornishman has a face as brown and eyes as black ; 
therefore, I edited the name of Triana into Cornish Trevenna, 
and changed Cristobal, my middle name, into Christopher. 

We took our first meal in the restaurant, and everyone at the 
little tables near by, was talking of the King and “ Princess Ena ” ; 
how pretty she was, how much in love he; how charming their 
romance. My heart quite warmed to my youthful sovereign, who 
has had seven fewer years on earth than 1. 1 felt that, if I had had 
a fair chance, I should have been his loyal subject. 

“ I’d like to have a look at him,” said I to Waring after lunch. 
“ The lady with the nose who sat on our left said to her husband 
with the chin, that the King and the two Princesses motor every 
afternoon. We’ll motor too; and where they go, there we’ll go 
also.” 

“ Take care,” said Dick. 

“ A cat may look at a king. So may Chris Trevenna.” 

“ No good advising you to be cautious.” 

“ Of course not. You wouldn’t care a rap for me if there was.” 

“ Shouldn’t I ? Anyhow, Chris Trevenna might as well wear 
goggles.” 

“ There’s no dust to-day,” said I. “ It rained in the night.” 

“ I give you up,” said Dick. And if giving me up meant going 
out with me in my big blue car directly after lunch, then he kept 
his word. Ropes, my chauffeur, and right-hand man, who sits 
always in the tonneau, had already heard all about the King’s 
automobile, and was primed with particulars. He leaned across 


6 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


to describe its appearance, as well as mention the make; and when 
such a car as he was in the act of picturing passed us, going 
round a bend of the road which leads to Spain, there was no mis- 
taking it. 

“Let’s follow,” said I. 

Dick sighed, but naturally I paid no attention to that. 

There were five persons in the King’s car. The slim young 
owner, three ladies, two very slender and young, and the chauf- 
feur, all five masked or goggled, so that it was impossible to see 
their faces. 

“ I wish something would happen to them,” I said. 

Waring looked shocked. 

“ Just enough of a something to stop the car, and tempt the 
ladies to take off their motor-veils. I may never have another 
chance to see the future Queen of Spain.” 

When I was a small lad in England, I used to lie under 
a favourite apple-tree in the orchard of the old place where we 
lived, and wish with all my might for the fall of a certain apple 
on which eyes and heart were fixed. It was extraordinary how 
often the apple would fall. 

In a flash I remembered those wishes and those apples as we 
began to gain upon the King’s car. Its pace slackened, and then 
it stopped. The chauffeur jumped out, and two of the ladies were 
raising their thick veils as we came up. 

As we were not supposed to know the King, who was “ incog,” 
the ordinary civilities between motorists were in order. I slowed 
down, and taking off my hat, inquired in French if there were 
anything I could do. 

The two girls, who had hastily whipped off their veils, turned 
and glanced at me. Both were more than pretty; blond, violet- 
eyed, with radiant complexions ; but one seemed to me beautiful 
as the Blessed Damozel looking down from the star-framed win- 
dow of heaven; and I was suddenly sick with jealously of the 
King, because I believed that she was his Princess. 

It was he who answered, in French better than mine. He thank- 


THE KING’S CAR 


ed me for my kind offer, and referred me to his chauffeur, who 
had not yet discovered the cause of the car’s sudden loss of power. 
But even as he spoke, the mystery was solved. There was a leak 
in the petrol-tank, near the bottom ; the last drop of essence had 
run away, and, as they had come out for a short spin, there was 
none in reserve. 

An odd chance it seemed that brought me, the son of a ban- 
ished rebel, to the King’s aid; but life is odd. I rejoiced because 
it was odd, and more because of the girl. 

I had a spare bidon of petrol which, with conventional expres- 
sions of pleasure, I gave to my fellow motorist. We exchanged 
compliments, and as nobody stared at me askance, I had reason 
to believe that neither words, actions, nor looks were out of the 
way. Yet what I said and did was said and done with no more 
guidance of the mind than the gestures and speech of a mechani- 
cal doll. 

I was conscious only of the girl’s eyes, for I had done that un- 
reasonable, indefinable tiling — fallen in love at first sight. She 
did not glance at me often, and after the first I scarcely glanced 
at her at all, lest my eyes should be indiscreet. It was the most 
curious thing in the world, and far beyond anything that had ever 
happened to me ; but already I knew that I could not lose her out 
of my life. If she were the Princess who was to be Queen of Spain, 
I would follow her to Madrid, come what might, just for the joy of 
breathing the air she breathed, of seeing her drive past me in her 
carriage sometimes. I had wondered, knowing the traditions of 
our family, many of them tragic, when love would come to me. 
Now it had come quickly, in a moment; hut not to go as it had 
come. The girl was little more than a child, but I knew she 
was to be the one woman for me; and that was what I 
feared my eyes would tell her. So I would not look; yet 
the air seemed charged with electricity to flash a thousand 
messages, and my blood tingled with the assurance that she 
had had my message, that unconsciously she was sending 
back a message to me. 


8 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


All this was going on in my inner self, while the outer husk of 
self delivered itself of conventional things. 

A leak was mended, a tank filled, while my life was being re- 
made. Then there were bows, lifting of caps, many politenesses, 
and the King’s car shot away. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” inquired Waring by and by. 

“Nothing,” I answered. “Why do you ask?” 

“You act as if you’d had a stroke. Aren’t you going to drive 
on?” 

“No. Yes. I’m going back,” I said, and turned the car. 

“You don’t mean to follow, then ?” 

“There’s something I need to do at once at Biarritz,” I an- 
swered. It was true. I needed to find out whether she was the 
Princess, or — just a girl. x 


n 


THE GIRL 

I T was easy to learn that she was not the Princess. I did that 
by going into a stationer’s shop and asking for a photo- 
graph of the royal lovers. It was not quite so easy to 
find out who she was, without pinning my new secret on 
my sleeve ; but luckily everyone in Biarritz boasted knowledge of 
the King’s affairs, and the affairs of the pretty Princess. Christo- 
pher Trevenna made himself agreeable after dinner to the lady 
with the nose, who would probably have shrunk away in fear if 
she had known that she was talking with the Marques de Casa 
Triana. 

I, in my character of Trevenna, found out that the Princess 
had a friend. Lady Monica Vale, daughter of the widowed 
Countess of Vale- A von, who, when at home, lived in the Isle of 
Wight. At present, the two were staying at Biarritz, in a villa; 
and Lady Monica, a girl of eighteen or nineteen, sometimes had 
the honour of going out with the Princesses, in the King’s motor. 

There were other privileged friends as well; but the description 
of Lady Monica Vale, though painted with a colourless brush, 
was unmistakable. 

Casually I inquired the name of the house where Lady Vale- 
Avon and her daughter were staying, and having learned it, I 
made an excuse to escape from the lady with the nose. 

It was half-past ten o’clock, and a night flooded with moon- 
light. I strolled out, smoking a cigarette, and in ten minutes stood 
before the garden gate of the Villa Esmeralda. 

There were lights in three or four of the windows, sparkling 

9 


10 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

among close-growing trees; and I had not finished my second 
cigarette, when a carriage drove round the corner and stopped. 

I moved into the background. A groom jumped down, un- 
fastened the gate, and having opened the brougham door, re- 
spectfully aided a middle-aged lady to descend. 

The moonlight showed me a clear, proud profile, and fired the 
diamonds in a tiara which crowned a head of waved grey hair. 

There were billows of violet satin and lace to keep off the 
ground; and as the groom helped the wearer to adjust them under 
her chinchilla coat, a girl sprang out of the carriage, her white 
figure and rippling hair of daffodil gold in full moonlight. 

I stood as a man might stand who sees a vision, hardly breath- 
ing. I made no sound, yet she turned and saw me, sheltered as I 
was by the dappled trunk of a tall plane-tree. It was as if I had 
called, and she had answered. 

I knew she remembered me, and that she did not misunder- 
stand my presence. There was no anger in her face, only surprise, 
and a light which was hidden as she dropped her head, and pass- 
ed on through the gate. 

I could have sung the song of the stars. She had not forgotten 
me since the afternoon. The look in my eyes then, had arrested 
some thought of hers, and set me apart in her mind from other 
men. 

It was no stupid conceit which made me feel this, but a kind of 
exalted conviction. 

When the gate was shut, I took off my hat and looked at the 
lighted windows. I could make her care. I said to myself, “ We’re 
meant for each other. And if that’s true, though all the moun- 
tains in the world were piled up as barriers between us, I’d cross 
them.” 

That was a vow. And through the remaining hours of the night 
I tried to plan how it would be best to begin its fulfilment. 

Men who have gone through a campaign as close friends, 
have few secrets from one another; and I had none from Dick 
Waring. Nevertheless, I would now have kept one if it were pos- 


THE GIRL 


11 


sible ; but it was not. If I had not told him, he would have guessed, 
and then he might have thought that he had the right to chaff me 
on losing my head. 

It is only a happy lover who can bear to be chaffed, however, 
and a few words were enough to show my tactful American where 
to set his feet on the slippery path. 

He too had seen the girl; therefore he could not be surprised at 
my state of mind. But he regretted it, and urged that the best I 
could do was to go away, before the thought of her had taken too 
deep a hold upon me. 

“You see,” he said, “you’re in a hopeless position; and it’s 
better to look facts in the face. If you’d fallen in love with almost 
any other girl, except Princess Ena herself, you might have hoped. 
But as it is, what have you to look forward to ? You oughtn’t to 
have come to Biarritz. In the circumstances, and with the King 
here, it was bravado. Friends of his, enemies of yours, might even 
say it was bad taste, which is worse. And then, having come, you 
proceed to follow the King’s motor-car; you fall head over ears 
in love with a girl in it, a friend of the bride-elect, to whom your 
real name, if she’s not heard it already, could easily be made to 
seem anathema maranatha. But that’s not all. You’re here under 
a name not your own. If you should by luck or ill-luck get a chance 
to meet Lady Monica, you couldn’t be introduced to her as 
Christopher Trevenna; it would be a false pretence; still less 
could you throw your real name in her face; for between the King 
of Spain as a friend, and you as an acquaintance, the girl would 
be in an uncomfortable position, to say the least. No, my dear 
fellow, you can’t meet this young lady; and the only thing for 
your peace of min if you’ve really fallen in love, is to go away.” 

I had no arguments with which to meet Dick’s. I listened in 
silence, but — I made no preparation for departure. If there was 
nothing to be gained by staying, at least there was as little to be 
gained by going; for I knew that I should not forget the girl. If I 
were struck blind, her face would still live for my eyes, white and 
pure against a background of darkness. 


12 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


We stayed on at Biarritz, but I behaved with circumspection, 
and made no further attempts to put myself in the King’s way, 
though he arrived at the Villa Mouriscot every morning from San 
Sebastian. Dick approved my conduct and, pitying my depres- 
sion, perhaps repented his hardness. He found several Parisian 
friends at Biarritz, and when we had been there for three days, 
came back to the hotel from the Casino one night with an impor- 
tant air. 

“Strange how one’s tempted to do things one knows one 
oughtn’t to do,” said he. “ Now, it’s unwise to tell you I’ve met a 
man who knows Lady Monica Vale, yet I’m doing it.” 

“ What did the man say ? ” I asked. 

“ A number of things — charming, of course. She’s not en- 
gaged, if that’s any consolation.” 

“ Oh, I knew that.” 

“How?” 

“ By her eyes.” 

“ Apparently she observed yours also.” 

“ What ? She’s spoken of — she — ” 

“ The sister of my man is a friend of Lady Monica’s. She told 
the sister about the motor-car adventure.” 

“ For goodness sake don’t force me to ask questions.” 

“ I won’t. I’ve a soft heart, which has often been my undoing. 
She said she’d seen the most interesting man in the world. Don’t 
faint.” 

“ Don’t be an ass.” 

“ I’m not chaffing. She did say that — honest Injun. At least, 
I’ve Henri de la Mole’s word for it. His sister was at school at the 
convent of the Virgin of Tears with Lady Monica Vale. Lady 
Monica supposed the other day that we were both French, which 
is a compliment to your accent. She said she wished she could 
find out ‘who was the brown man with the eyes.’ I’m a fool to 
have told you that though, eh ? It can’t do you any good, and will 
probably make you worse.” 

“ But it has done me good.” 


13 


THE GIRL 

“Flattered your vanity. However, I haven’t told you all yet. 
De la Mole says the mother’s a dragon, hard as iron, cold as steel, 
living for ambition. She was left poor, on her husband’s death, 
as the Vale-Avon estates went with the title to a distant relative, 
and the girl’s been brought up to make a brilliant match. She’s 
been given every accomplishment under Heaven, to add to her 
beauty; and as the family’s one of the oldest in Great Britain, 
connected with royalty in one way or another, in Stuart days, 
Lady’s Monica’s expected to pull off something from the top 
branch, in the way of a marriage. De la Mole’s heard that the 
present Lord Yale-Avon has been first favourite with the mother 
up till lately, though he’s next door to an idiot. Princess 
Ena’s engagement to the King of Spain has changed 
everything. You see, Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter live 
not far from the Princess, in the Isle of Wight. When 
the King came a-courting to England, came also, though 
not exactly in his train, another Spaniard, the Duke of 
Carmona, and — ” 

“Don’t,” I cut in; “I won’t hear his name in connection with 
her’s. That half Moorish brute!” 

“He may have a dash of Moorish blood, but he’s not half 
Moorish; and if he’s a brute, he’s a good-looking brute, accord- 
ing to de la Mole, and one of the richest young men in Spain. 
Lady Vale-Avon — ” 

I jumped up and stopped Dick. “ I’m in earnest,” I said. “ I 
can’t bear to listen. I know the sort of things you’d say. But don’t. 
If you do, I think I’ll kill the fellow.” 

“ Ever met him ? ” 

“ No. The men of my house and of his have been enemies for 
generations. But I’ve heard of certain exploits.” 

“ He’s coming here to stop with his mother, the old Duchess, 
who’s been spending the winter at Biarritz. Another reason for 
you to vamose.” 

“ You mean, to stay. At least, he shan’t have a clear coast.” 

“ I don’t see how you can hope to block it.” 


14 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“ I will — somehow.” 

“No doubt you’re a hundred times the man he is, but — fate’s 
handicapped you for a show place in the matrimonial market. 
You are — ” 

“ A man countryless and penniless. Don’t hesitate to state the 
case frankly.” 

“ Well, you've said it. While the other’s rich, and a grandee of 
Spain. And, though de la Mole says the King doesn’t care for 
him, on account of something or other connected with the 
Spanish-American War, he’s bound to become a persona grata 
at Court if he marries a friend of the young Queen ; and, no doubt, 
that influences his choice.” 

“ Thank Heaven, Lady Monica isn’t Spanish.” 

“ Ah, but Spain’s the fashion now. An d you haven’t heard all 
my news. Henri de la Mole says Lady Monica is asked to be a 
maid of honour for the young Queen of Spain, the one English- 
woman she’s to have in attendance.” 

“ At least the wedding won’t be till June. It’s only the end of 
February now. I’ve got more than three months.” 

“ You haven’t got one. Soon after the Princesses leave Biarritz, 
Lady Vale- A von and Lady Monica are going to visit the old 
Duchess of Carmona in Spain.” 

“ What, they’re going to Seville ? ” 

“ If her house is there. I’m telling you what I’ve been told.” 

“ The principal house of the Duke is in Seville, though he has 
a place near Granada, and a flat in Madrid as a substitute for a 
fine house that was burned down.” 

“Then Seville’s where they’ll be. Anyhow, they’re to see the 
great show in Holy Week there.” 

It was as if Dick had suddenly drenched me with iced water. 

For a few seconds I did not speak. Then I said, “Are you try- 
ing to break it to me that the match is arranged ? ” 

“ I told you Lady Monica wasn’t engaged.” 

“And I told you I knew she wasn’t. But that isn’t to say the 
mother, the woman ‘as hard as iron and cold as steel,’ hasn’t 


THE GIRL 15 

planned her daughter’s future, a girl so young, and always kept 
under control.” 

“ It looks as if the wind was setting in that quarter. A person of 
Lady Vale-Avon’s type would hardly accept such an invitation 
if she didn’t intend something to come of it.” 

“ You’re certain the invitation’s been accepted ? ” 

“Certain. Angele de la Mole has been with her brother in 
Spain, and Lady Monica’s been asking her advice about what to 
take and what to wear. The Duke himself is in Paris, buying a 
new automobile; at least, so his mother says; but other people 
say he’s at Monte Carlo. Anyhow, he’s expected here in time for 
the ball.” 

“What ball?” 

“ Didn’t I tell you ? A masked ball the old Duchess is giving in 
honour of Princess Ena. A grand affair it will be, says de la Mole. 
There’s been jealously about the invitations, which have been 
carefully weeded.” 

“ You and I’ll accept,” said I. 

“ We’re not likely to have the chance.” 

“Sometimes a man must make a chance. I shall meet Lady 
Monica at the Duchess’s ball.” 

“ All right. Suppose you go in the garb of a palmer ? ” 

“Eh?” 

“ I was thinking of another first meeting, case not dissimilar, 
you know, Romeo and Juliet. My poor, mad friend, there’s more 
hope for a Montague with a Capulet than for a Casa Triana with 
a friend of the future Queen of Spain, and the daughter of a Lady 
Vale-Avon.” 

“Romeo won Juliet.” 

“ It wasn’t exactly a fortunate marriage. See here, if you’re 
going in for the part of Romeo, it’s no good asking me to play 
Mercutio.” 

I looked at Dick and smiled. “I shall ask nothing,” I said. 
“Yet—” 

“Yet, you know mighty well, if you want a Mercutio, I’ll be 


16 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


ready to take up the role at a moment’s notice all for the sake 
of your beaux yeux. Well, you’re right. There’s something queer 
about you, Ramon, which makes us others glad to do what we 
can, even if it were to cost our lives. If you’d been a king in exile, 
you’d have had no trouble in finding followers. From your French 
valet to your Russian soldiers; from your English chauffeur to 
your American friend, it’s pretty well the same. I expect you’ll 
get to that masked ball.” 

“If I don’t, it won’t be for lack of trying,” said I. 

“But—” 

“But what — ” 

“This affair of yours is going to end in tragedy — for some- 
one,” said Dick. 


Ill 


THE GUEST WHO WAS NOT ASKED 

D URIN G the next two or three days I found more to do. 

I got Dick to introduce me to his friend Henri de 
la Mole, not as Christopher Trevenna, but under my 
own name, and when he and his sister had been 
interested in what they chose to think a romance, I was able to 
learn through them that, curiously enough, Lady Vale-Avon had 
arranged for her daughter to appear at the ball as Juliet. 

The costume, it seemed, decided itself, because there happened 
to be among Lady Vale-Avon’s inherited and most treasured 
possessions, an interesting pearl head-dress of the conventional 
Juliet fashion. This had been sent for from England; and if I 
could succeed in getting to the ball, as I fully intended to do, I 
should have little difficulty in identifying the head that I adored. 

Had I not taken de la Mole more or less into my confidence, 
he would have done nothing to further my interests; but, if I 
really have any such power as Dick Waring hinted, I used it to 
enlist de la Mole upon my side. Finally he not only agreed, but 
offered to help me enter the Duchess of Carmona’s house as one 
of her masked guests. He had been asked to stand at the door 
that night, and request each person, or in any case the man of 
each party, to raise his mask for an instant. This, in order to 
keep out reporters and intruders of all sorts; and his promise 
was to let me pass in unchallenged. I might count on his good 
offices, not only in that way, but in any other way possible, for 
“ all the world loves a lover, ” said he. And he wished me the best 
of luck, though he looked as if he hardly expected me to have it. 

17 


18 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Probably it was foolish and conceited, but I could not resist 
playing up to the role Dick suggested. She was to be Juliet. I 
would be Romeo. 

By this time, no doubt, the Duchess’s invited guests had their 
costumes well under way; I had to get mine, and the only way to 
have something worthy of the occasion was to go to Paris for it. 
I did go, and was back in Biarritz in two days. 

The rest moved easily, without a hitch. The night of the ball 
came. I dressed and went alone, rather than drag Dick into an 
affair which might end disagreeably. 

I did not put myself forward, but stood for a while and watched 
the dancers, waiting for my chance. 

Carmona had arrived the day before. I had never met him, 
but what I had heard I did not like; and having seen him once 
or twice in London, at a distance, he was recognizable in a cos- 
tume copied from a famous portrait of that Duke of Alba who 
loomed great in Philip the Second’s day. Because of a slight 
difference one from the other, in the height of his shoulders, he 
was difficult to disguise; and though the arrangement of the cos- 
tume was intended to hide the peculiarity, it was perceptible. 

When the “Duke of Alba” had danced twice in succession 
with Juliet Capulet, I could bear my role of watcher no longer. 
Besides, I knew that I had not much time to waste. For the sake 
of de la Mole, who had run the risk of admitting a stranger, I 
must vanish before the hour for the masks to fall. When I took 
off my cap and bowed before this white Juliet with the pearl- 
laced plaits of gold, she gazed at me through her velvet mask in 
the silence of surprise. I could not guess whether she puzzled 
herself as to what was under my yellow-brown wig and my mask ; 
but at least she must know it was Romeo who begged a 
dance. 

I did not urge my claim on such a plea, however, least it should 
rouse Carmona’s opposition, and cause him to keep the girl from 
me if he could. I merely said, “ The next is our dance, ” risking 
a rebuff ; but it did not come. 


19 


THE GUEST WHO WAS NOT ASKED 

“Yes,” she said, almost timidly. It was the first time I had 
heard her speak, and her voice went to my heart. 

The Duke stared, as though he would have stripped off my 
mask by sheer force of curiosity. But he had to let the girl go; 
and as the music began she was in my arms. I hardly dared 
believe my own luck. Neither of us spoke. I was lost in the sense 
of her nearness, the knowledge that it was the music which gave 
me the right to hold her thus, and that when the music died I 
must let her go. 

But a quick thought came. If we danced the waltz through, 
Carmona or someone else would claim her for the next. If I could 
hide the girl before it was over, perhaps I might keep her for a 
little time. Indeed, I must keep her, if, this meeting were not to 
end in failure ; for there were things I had to say. 

The conservatory was too obvious; and the shallow staircase 
with its rose-garlanded balusters, and its fat silk cushion for each 
step, would soon be invaded by a dozen couples. What to do, 
then ? I would have given much to know the house. 

“ I must speak with you, ” I said at last. “ Where can we go ? ” 

She did not say in return, “ Do you know me, then ? ” or any 
other conventional thing. The hope in me that she had remem- 
bered well enough to guess who I was, brightened. She would not 
have answered a person she regarded as a stranger, as she 
answered me, 

“ There’s a card-room at the end of the corridor to the left, off 
the big hall, where we might rest for a moment or two, ” she said. 
“ But I mustn’t stop long. ” 

“ No, ” I promised. “ I won’t try to keep you. I ask only a few 
moments. I can’t tell how I thank you for giving me those. ” 

I threw a glance round for Carmona, and saw him dancing 
with a stately Mary Stuart. I guessed his partner to be Lady 
Vale-Avon; and if I were right, it was a bad omen. She was not a 
woman to care for extraneous dancing, therefore she favoured 
Carmona in particular. 

Still, for the moment he was occupied; and when his back was 


20 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


turned I whisked Lady Monica out of the ball-room, past the 
decorated staircase in the square hall, and to the room at the end of 
the corridor. There I pushed aside a portiere and followed her in. 

She had been right; the room was unoccupied, though two or 
three bridge tables were ready for players. In one corner was a 
small sofa. The girl sat down, carefully leaving no room for me, 
even had I presumed; and, leaning forward, clasped her little 
hands nervously round her knees. 

Then she looked up at me through her mask; and I did not 
keep her waiting. 

“ I’ve no invitation to-night, ” I said. “ But I had to come. I 
came to see you. Do you forgive me for saying this ? ” 

“I — think so, ” she answered. 

“ You would be sure, if you knew all . 99 

“ I do know. At least — I mean — but of course, I oughtn’t 
to be here with you . 99 

“ According to convention you oughtn’t. Yet — ” 

“ I’m not thinking of conventions. But — oh, I should hate 
you to misunderstand!” 

“ I could never misunderstand. ” 

I snatched off my mask and stood looking down at her, 
knowing that my face would say what was in my heart, and not 
now wishing to hide the secret. 

“ You know, ” I said, “ that I’ve worshipped you since the first 
moment I saw you. It was impossible to meet you in any ordinary 
way, for you have no friend who would introduce to you the 
Marques de Casa Triana. Have you ever heard that name before. 
Lady Monica?”. 

“Yes,” she answered frankly. “I heard it yesterday. From 
Angele de la Mole. ” 

“ Her brother’s a friend of my best friend. ” 

“I know.” 

“ If it hadn’t been for him, I should have had great trouble 
in getting here to-night. Yet I would have come. Did Mademoi- 
selle de la Mole tell you that I loved you ? ” 


THE GUEST WHO WAS NOT ASKED 21 

Lady Monica dropped her head and did not answer, but the 
little hands were pressed tightly together. 

“ I’ve always been proud of my name, ” I said, “ though it’s 
counted a misfortune to bear it ; but when I saw you, then I knew 
for the first time how great a misfortune it may be. ” 

“Why?” 

“ Because my only happiness can come now in having you for 
my wife; and even if I could win your love, you wouldn’t be 
allowed to marry my father’s son. ” 

“Your father may have been mistaken,” the girl faltered. 
“ I do think he was. But he was a gloriously brave man. Even the 
enemies against whom he fought must respect his memory. 
I — I’ve read of him. I — bought a book yesterday. You see — 
I’ve thought about you. I couldn’t help it. We saw each other 
only those few minutes, and we didn’t even speak; yet somehow 
it was different from anything else that ever happened to me. ” 

“ It was fate, ” I said. “We were destined to meet, and I was 
destined to love you. If I thought I could make you care, that 
would give me a right I couldn’t have otherwise; the right to try 
and win your love, and beat down every obstacle. ” 

“ I could — I do care, ” she whispered. “ Even if I were never 
to see you again, I shouldn’t forget. This — would be the ro- 
mance of my life. ” 

“ Angel ! ” I said. And then she took off her mask, with such a 
divine smile that I could have knelt at her feet as at the shrine 
of a saint. 

“ Isn’t it wonderful ? ” she asked. “ I didn’t find out your name 
till yesterday, though I tried before; and we don’t know each 
other at all — ” 

“Why, we’ve known each other since the world began. My 
soul had been waiting to find yours again, and found it the other 
afternoon, on the road to my own land. That’s what people who 
don’t understand call ‘ love at first sight.’ ” 

“ I think it must be so; because there was never anything like 
that first minute when you looked at me. ” 


22 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“If I could have known, it would have saved me sleepless 
nights. For now you’re mine, my dearest, just as I am yours. 
Nothing can take you from me now. ” 

“ Ah, I’m afraid ! Even if — everything were different in your 
life, it would be difficult; for — there’s someone else in mine 
already. ” 

“ There can be no one else, since you care for me. ” 

“Not truly in my life. But there’s someone my mother wants 
me to marry. ” 

“ The Duke of Carmona. ” 

“You knew?” 

“You see, I’ve thought of nothing but you; and I’ve learned 
all I could about what concerns you. ” 

“ I don’t like him, not even as a friend. He’s handsome enough, 
but I’m sure he has a most horrible temper. I could be afraid of 
him. I believe I am afraid. And mother — you don’t know her, 
but — when she makes up her mind that you’re to do a certain 
thing, you find yourself doing it. That’s one reason I was so 
glad when you came to-night, and said, * The next is our dance,’ 
in such a determined way. Not only did you take me away 
from him, but — I felt you’d try to keep me from him, in 
the end. ” 

“Try!” I echoed. “I will keep you. Trust me my darling. I’ve 
been foolish to come to Biarritz under another name. This isn’t 
Spain; and even a Casa Triana has a right to be here. But luckily 
not much harm’s done. Through the de la Moles I’ll be presented 
to Lady Yale- Avon; I’ll tell her that, though compared to the 
days when my people counted for something in the history of 
Spain, I’m penniless, still my father left me enough to live on and 
keep a wife who loves me better than she loves society. I’ll tell 
Lady Vale- A von that there are countries in which my name’s 
well thought of, even in these piping times; that there I’ll do 
something worth doing — ” 

“You’ve already done things worth doing,” the girl broke in; 
“ splendid things. ” 


THE GUEST WHO WAS NOT ASKED 


23 


“I’ve done nothing yet, but I’ll change that. I’ll ask your 
mother to give me a chance — to wait — ” 

“No,” she insisted. “Mother would refuse, and everything 
would be worse than ever. ” 

“ Darling one, they couldn’t be worse. Because now, I’m doing 
what I oughtn’t to do, although it’s been forced upon me by my 
love. To deserve you in the faintest degree, I must be open in my 
dealings. I must speak to Lady Vale-Avon. ” 

“She’ll never consent.” 

“ At least I shall have done the right thing. Now we’ve had 
this talk, now you know that you’re all the world, and heaven 
besides, to me, even for your mother’s sake you won’t throw me 
over, will you?” 

“ No, a thousand times no. I didn’t dream loving would be like 
this. It would kill me to give you up. ” 

“ Then nothing can part us. ” 

“ It makes me feel brave to hear you say so. But — you don’t 
know mother. ” 

“ I know myself, and I trust you. ” 

“ I’m so young, and — I’ve never been allowed to have my own 
way. I’ve always given up.” 

“ Because you were alone, with no one to help you. Now you 
have me.” 

“That’s true. But — ” 

“ Precious one, there’s no ‘ but.* ” 

“ I wish I could think so ! Yet something seems to say that if 
you speak to mother, we shall be lost. I love you — but — do 
let it be kept secret for a while. ” 

“With what end?” 

“ I hardly know. Only, I’ve the strongest presentiment it would 
be best.” 

“ And I’ve the strongest conviction that not only would it be 
wrong, but that you wouldn’t respect me if I consented. ” 

“ I beg of you, wait at least till the royalties leave Biarritz 
before you tell mother, or anyone, who you are. ” 


24 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


I could not help smiling, though rather bitterly. “ You’ve 
heard about my adventure in Barcelona ? ” 

“Yes, from Angele. I couldn’t bear it if you were to have 
trouble here. ” 

“ There’s no danger of that. ” 

“ One can’t tell. Circumstances which you don’t foresee might 
seem to involve you in some plot. Oh, if you love me, wait till 
the royalties have gone. ” 

How could I refuse those soft eyes, and those little clasped 
hands ? 

I caught the hands and crushed them against my lips, the rosy 
fingers that smelled of orris, and the polished nails like pink 
jewels. As I bent over my love, the curtain which covered the 
doorway waved as in a gust of wind. 

Quick as fight, Monica snatched away her hands, but it was 
too late. Carmona was holding back the portiere for Lady Vale- 
Avon. 

He must have been watching. He must have known that I had 
brought Lady Monica to this room. He must have fetched the 
girl’s mother on purpose to find us together. 

These were the thoughts in my mind as I faced the two, mask 
in hand. 

They had seen me kissing Monica’s fingers. It was useless to 
hope that they had not. 

“Leave the room instantly, my daughter,” said Lady Vale- 
Avon, in a low voice. She too had taken off her mask. 

It was a disastrous situation for me, and one all too difficult 
to carry off with dignity. 

“ Madame, ” I said. “ I am the Marques de Casa Triana. I met 
Lady Monica some time ago, and have this moment told her that 
I love her. Now, I ask your consent to — ” 

“Casa Triana here!” exclaimed Carmona, in a tone which 
could have expressed no more of horror, had I been a bandit 
at large. 

“ Have no fear for your house, ” I could not help sneering. 


25 


THE GUEST WHO WAS NOT ASKED 

He gave me a look not to be forgiven a man by a man. “ I have 
no such fear, ” he said ; “ but there are those here whose safety 
is dear to me; and your name is not one which should be spoken 
under the same roof. ” 

It was thus that he chose to inform Lady Vale- Avon, if she had 
been ignorant of it, that I was a notorious character. 

“ Will you tell me, ” he went on, “ how you found your way 
into my mother’s house, where no one of your name could 
be an invited guest ? ” 

“ There’s a window, ” said I, thinking to save de la Mole, “ by 
which the world and his wife might enter. ” 

“ I saw you, masked, in the ball-room half an hour ago.” 

Half an hour ago! Perhaps he was not exaggerating. But the 
thirty minutes, if there had been thirty, had passed like one. 

“ I was there, ” I admitted, “ looking for Lady Monica Vale. 
We danced together, and I brought her here — ” 

“ Who is this man, Duke ? ” Though she spoke to him, Lady 
Vale- Avon’s eyes, cold as points of steel, pierced mine. 

“ A person who, whatever his intentions may be, ought not to 
be in Biarritz while King Alfonso’s here. ” 

“ I remember the name now. And he has come to your house, 
uninvited ; he proposes to marry my daughter — a man whom 
I’ve never seen! You have your answer, Marques de Casa 
Triana, if you need an answer. It is, no. Pray accept it 
quietly, and cease to persecute us, otherwise I must ask 
the Duke to act for me, as I have no husband or son. Is that 
enough ? ” 

“ It is not enough, ” I echoed. “ I love your daughter, and I 
trust she cares for me. I will not give her up. ” 

“ Monica, I told you to go, and you disobey me, ” exclaimed 
Lady Vale- A von. “ Now, I tell you to send this man away. ” 
“Mother — I love him,” faltered the girl. “Wait — when 
you’ve heard — when you know what he is — ” 

“You talk like a child, Monica, ” her mother said. “You are 
a child. It’s your one excuse; but this man, who must have 


2G 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


hypnotized you, has reached years of discretion. If he will not 
leave the room, we must.” 

“ I’ll go, Lady Vale-Avon, ” I said, “ but first let me say once 
more, frankly, I will never give up your daughter. ” Then I 
looked straight at Monica. “ Trust me, ” I said, “ as I trust you ; 
and have courage. ” 

With that I bowed, and walked out at the window by which I 
hoped the Duke thought I had come in. 

“I’m not sure,” I heard him say to Lady Vale-Avon, “that 
I oughtn’t to inform the police. In Barcelona, six or 
seven years ago — ” 

I waited for no more. 


IV 


“I DON’T THREATEN— I WARN ” 

I N the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace 
handkerchief I had stolen; wondering if I had been 
altogether wrong, yet not able to see what other course 
had been open. 

Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to 
Monica, and hold the girl by the hand while she talked with 
Carmona. They spoke only a few words. Then the Duke opened 
the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica not once looking 
up. 

No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, 
and seeing me in the glimmering night joined me. 

“ This is my mother’s house, ” he said in Spanish. 

‘‘And her garden, you would add, ” I answered. 

“Yes. ” 

“ But there’s something here that is mine. ” 

“ There is nothing here that is yours. ” His voice, studiously 
cold at first, warmed with anger. 

“ It will be mine some day, in spite of — everything. 99 
“ You boast, Marques de Casa Triana. ” 

“ No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me. 99 
Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not 
stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something 
restrained him and he laughed instead. “ I wouldn’t count on the 
ulfilment of her promise if I were you, ” he said. “ Lady Monica’s 
a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best 
thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a 

27 


28 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

waste of breath. What I will say is, you’ll be wise to leave Biarritz 
before anything disagreeable happens. ” 

“ I intend to leave Biarritz, ” I said quietly. 

“ I’m glad to hear it. ” 

“ When Lady Monica and her mother leave. ” 

‘‘You intend to persecute these ladies!” 

“ Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, 
that will be — the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz. ” 

“ Who has spoken of such a visit ? ” 

“ A person I trust. ” 

He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I 
could not tell. But at last he said, “ I’m less well-informed than 
your friend as to the plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. 
They may return to England; they may go to friends in Paris, 
they may visit my mother. But this doesn’t concern strangers 
like yourself ; and my advice to the Marques de Casa Triana is, 
whatever happens , keep out of Spain . ” 

“ Do you threaten me ? ” I asked. 

“ I don’t threaten — I warn. ” 

“Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for 
thought. ” 

“ All the better. You’ll be less likely to forget. ” 

“ I shan’t forget, ” I answered. “ Indeed, I shall profit by your 
advice. And with that I walked away, putting on my mask. 

As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to 
leave the house of Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor- 
car nor a carriage ; but luckily a cab was lingering in the neigh- 
bourhood on the chance of a fare. I was glad not to walk to my 
hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my quarters without 
meeting curious eyes in the corridors. 

As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking 
and reading a novel. 

“ Well, what luck, friend Romeo ? ” he asked. 

“Luck, and ill luck,” said I. Then I told the story of the 
evening. 


“I DON’T THREATEN — I WARN” 


29 


“ Humph ! you’ve gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape, ” 
was his comment at the end. 

“You call it a ‘scrape’ when by a miracle the sweetest girl 
alive has fallen in love with you ? ” 

“Just that, if the girl isn’t old enough to know her own mind, 
and has a mother who wouldn’t let her know it if she could. 
You’ve gone so far now, you’ll have to go further — ” 

“ As far as the end of the world, if necessary. ” 

“Oh! you Latin men, with your eyes of fire, your boiling 
passions, and your exaggerated expressions! What do we 
Yankees and other sensible persons see in you ? ” 

“ Heaven knows, ” said I, shrugging my shoulders. 

“ I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you’d got 
to the age of twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn’t 
you wait till the age of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over 
to my country with me, a long sight better than the ‘end of the 
world,’ and propose to a charming American girl of rational age 
and plenty of dollars?” 

“A rational age?” 

“Over eighteen, anyhow. I believe you Latins have a fancy 
for these little white ingenues , who don’t know which side their 
bread’s buttered, or how to say anything but ‘ Yes, please, ’ and 
‘ No, thank you.’ When my time comes, the girl must be twenty - 
two and a good, patriotic American. ” 

“American girls are fascinating, but I happen to be in love 
with an English one, and it’s her misfortune and mine, not our 
fault, that she’s eighteen instead of twenty-two. ” 

“A big misfortune. You mustn’t kidnap an infant. That’s 
what makes it awkward. As I said, you can’t back out now. ” 

“ Not while I live. ” 

“ Don’t be so Spanish. But come to think of it, I suppose you 
can’t help that. What do you mean to do next ? ” 

“Watch. And get word to Monica. ” 

“ Angele de la Mole will do what she can for you. ” 

“ I hope so. Then everything else must depend on the girl. ” 


30 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Dick’s lean, tanned face was half quizzical, half sad. 

“ Everything else must depend on the girl, ” he repeated. “ I 
wonder what would happen if anybody tried to prop up a hun- 
dred pound weight against a lilybud ? ” 


V 


A MYSTERY CONCERNING A CHAUFFEUR 

F OR many days after this the young King of Spain 
motored back and forth between San Sebastian and 
Biarritz to visit the lady of his love ; but at last the two 
Princesses bade good-bye to the Villa Mouriscot, and 
went to Paris. Lady Vale- A von and Monica remained; but for 
the moment the girl was safe from Carmona, for the Duke 
followed the King to Madrid. 

Lovely as Monica was, is, and always will be, and genuinely 
in love with her as I had no doubt Carmona was, still I began to 
believe that Dick Waring was right, and that the Duke’s desire 
to win Princess Ena’s friend was as much for Court favour as for 
the girl herself. Several weeks passed, and Monica and her moth- 
er continued to be tenants of the Villa Esmeralda. They went 
out little, except to visit the old Duchess of Carmona, who evi- 
dently did all she could to advance her son’s interests with in- 
vitations to luncheons and dinners; but try as I might I was never 
able to obtain an interview. 

Fortunately for me, Lady Vale-Avon had seen me only in 
fancy dress; the costume of Romeo, with a ridiculous yellow- 
brown, wavy wig, upon which the costumier had insisted 
against my arguments. Now, I blessed him for his obstinacy; 
for I was able to pass Lady Vale-Avon in the street without being 
recognized, and once got near enough to slip into Monica’s hand 
a note I had hastily scribbled on the leaf of a note-book. 

“Are you willing that I should try my luck again with your 
mother?” I had written. “If not, will you consent to a 

31 


32 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

runaway marriage with a man who loves you better than 
his life?” 

Next day came an answer through Mademoiselle de la Mole. 

Monica begged that I would not speak to her mother. “ She 
fancies that you have gone away, ” the girl wrote. “ If you came 
forward I think she would wire the Duke of Carmona, for she 
writes to him nearly every day as it is ; and she would do every- 
thing she could to make me marry him at once. Don’t hate me 
for being a coward. I’m not, except with mother. I can’t help it 
with her. She’s different from everyone else. I heard the Duchess 
saying to her yesterday, that if I were to marry a grandee of 
Spain, I would be made a lady-in-waiting to the Queen instead of 
maid of honour; so I know what they’re thinking of always. But 
while mother hopes you have given me up, and that I’m quite 
good, they will perhaps let me alone. 

“ I wish I dared write to the Princess about you ; only, you see, 
on account of your father and that horrid accident which hap- 
pened, in Barcelona, she might misunderstand you, and things 
would be worse than before. But if I find that mother means 
actually to try and force me, then I will go away with you. Other- 
wise, I would rather wait, for both our sakes. 

“ When I go back to England, there are some dear cousins of 
mine who might help us, but it’s no use writing. I would have to 
see and talk to them myself. Anyway, if I were there they’d some- 
how manage not to let me be married to a foreigner I hate ; and 
you and I could go on being true to each other for a little while, 
until everything could be arranged. 

“ The worst is, mother doesn’t mean to go back to England yet. 
That’s what I’m afraid of, and that she has some plan about 
which she doesn’t mean to talk till the last minute. But she hasn’t 
said anything lately about visiting the Duchess of Carmona in 
Spain, and I hope she’s giving it up. As soon as I hear any- 
thing definite I’ll somehow let you know. I think I can promise 
that, though it may be difficult, as mother will never let Angeie 
and me be alone together for a minute if she can help it. The day 


A MYSTERY CONCERNING A CHAUFFEUR 33 

after the ball we are having a talk in my room when my mother 
came, and perhaps guessed I had been telling Angele things. 
Since then I haven’t been allowed to go to Angele’s; and though 
Angele comes to see me, mother always makes some excuse for 
being with us.” 

After this letter of Monica’s I had at least some idea of how 
matters stood ; and in the circumstances there seemed nothing to 
do but to be near her, and to wait. 

It was not until the latter part of March that the Duke of Car- 
mona came back to his mother’s villa at Biarritz. 

His arrival was not announced in the local paper, neverthe- 
less I heard of it ; and the day after, Mademoiselle de la Mole sent 
me another letter from Monica, only a few lines, evidently written 
in great haste. 

They were to pay the visit to the Duchess of Carmona in Se- 
ville, and were to arrive there in time for the famous ceremonies 
of Holy Week ; that was all she knew. The time of starting was 
either not decided, or else it was not considered best that she 
should know too long beforehand. 

“ I’m miserable about going,” wrote the girl; “but what can I 
do P I used to think it would be glorious to see Spain, but now 
I’m frightened. I have a horrible feeling that I shall never come 
back. I know it’s too much to ask, and I don’t see how you can do 
it if I do ask, since I can tell you nothing of our plans; but if only, 
only , you could keep near me, within call, I should be safe. I 
suppose it’s useless to hope for that ? Anyway, whatever happens, 
I shall always love you.” 

To this I wrote an answer, but Angele feared she might fail in 
getting it to her friend. The lease of Lady Vale-Avon’s Biarritz 
villa had just expired, and the mother and daughter were moving 
to the Duchess of Carmona’s for a few days. For some reason, the 
Duchess had not once invited Angele to come to her house since 
the ball. She might not be able to see Monica; and it would be 
very unsafe to trust to the post. 

It was on the evening of the day on which I had this news 


34 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

that my chauffeur knocked at the door of our sitting-room at 
the hotel. 

“ I thought,” said he, e< I’d better tell your lordship something 
which has just happened. It may be of importance; it may be of 
none.” 

Now I may as well explain that Peter Ropes is no common 
chauffeur. He is the son of the old coachman who served my 
father for many years in England; was groom to my first pony; 
went abroad with me as handy man; was with me through most 
of my adventures; when I took up motoring, volunteered to go 
into a factory and thoroughly learn the gentle art of chauffeuring; 
and at this time understood an automobile, and loved it, as he 
understood and loved a horse; he is of my age almost to the da} T ; 
and I suppose will be with me in some capacity or other till one 
of us dies. He has a brown face, which might have been carved 
from a piece of oak; the eyes of a soldier; and never utters a word 
more than he must. 

“You said I could go to the pelota this afternoon,” he continu- 
ed. “ When I came back I went to the garage, and found a strange 
chauffeur examining your Gloria. I stood at a distance, behind 
the King of England’s car, and watched what he would do. M. 
Levavasseur, the proprietor of the garage, came in just then, and 
I inquired in a low voice who the fellow was. He didn’t know; but 
the man had asked for Mr. Trevenna’s chauffeur, saying, when 
he heard I was out, that he was a friend of mine. I gave Levav- 
asseur the hint to keep quiet, and got out of the way myself. 
Presently the chauffeur walked over to Levavasseur, and said, 
in French, that he wouldn’t wait any longer.” 

“ Well, what then, Ropes ? ” I asked. 

“ He went away, and I went after him. He didn’t see me, and 
I don’t believe he would have known me from Adam if he had. 
He stopped at another garage, and I thought best not to go in 
there. But I waited, and after a while a very dark, tall gentleman, 
who looked Spanish, walked into the garage. Five minutes later 
he and the chauffeur came out together. They parted at the cn- 


A MYSTERY CONCERNING A CHAUFFEUR 35 

trance, and it was the gentleman I followed this time. He went to 
a large, handsome villa; and a person I met told me it was the 
Duchess of Carmona’s house. That is the reason I thought the 
thing important.” 

“ But why, exactly ? ” I persisted, guessing what Ropes would 
say. 

“ Because I think the gentleman was the Duke of Carmona.” 

“ And if he were ? ” 

“I’ve heard gossip that he’s anxious to stand well with the 
King of Spain. It occurred to me he might have some political 
interest in trying to learn the real name of Mr. Trevenna, if you 
pardon my having such a thought. He might have sent his chauf- 
feur to look at your car, and make a report; and if he did, what- 
ever the reason was, it would mean no good to your lordship. I 
thought you ought to know, and be upon your guard, in case of 
anything happening.” 

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re right to speak, and it may be 
you’ve done me an invaluable service.” 

Ropes beamed ; but having said all he had to say, another word 
would have been a waste of good material, which he was not the 
man to squander. 


VI 


PUZZLE : FIND THE CAR 



’HAT do you think it means?” asked Dick, 
when the chauffeur had gone. 


“It’s just struck me, it may mean that 
Carmona intends to slip away with his 


guests in his new automobile, and that he wanted to find out 


something about my car, what it was like, and so on, in case I got 
wind of the idea, and followed.” 

“ The identical thing struck me. He wouldn’t go spying him- 
self, but sent his chauffeur, a new importation, probably, to have 
a look at the Gloria and describe it. I wonder how he heard 
you had one.” 

“ Easy enough to do that. Of course he’s found out somehow, 
perhaps through employing a detective, that Chris Trevenna and 
Casa Triana are one man. He can’t make much use of the know- 
ledge to bother me on this side the frontier, but — ” 

“Yes; a big but.” 

“ It seems pretty certain that his own car must have come, or 
be coming here, and that he means to use it going into Spain, or 
he wouldn’t have developed this sudden interest in mine.” 

“ It looks like it. Now he knows, if a dark blue Gloria crosses 
his path, it’s the car of the pursuing lover, and — ” 

“ I was just thinking that a dark blue Gloria will not cross his 
path.” 

“You don’t mean — ” 

“ I mean that it won’t be prudent for either Casa Triana’s or 
Chris Trevenna’s car to follow his, wherever he means to go.” 


SG 


37 


PUZZLE: FIND THE CAR 

“What, you’ll give up—” 

“Is it likely?” 

“You’re getting beyond me.” 

“ What I want is to stay with you, in your car.” 

“ Wish I had one ! ” said Dick. 

“You’re going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red 
car suit you best ? ” 

“ I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.” 

We both laughed. 

“Your red car must have new lamps,” I went on, “ and a new 
number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. 
And you’d better get a passport if you haven’t one. Gentlemen 
touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-ques- 
tionings which might be inconvenient unless they’ve plenty of red 
tape up their sleeves.” 

“ I’ll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredit- 
ed correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a news- 
paper or two ? ” 

“ Rattling good idea. Could you work it ? ” 

“ Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I’ll arrange by 
telegraph, London and New York.” 

“ Grand old chap.” 

“ Thanks. Better wait till I’ve done something. What about 
your part in the show ? ” 

“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper 
correspondent in his travels.” 

“ That’s all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.” 

“ A new travelling name’s as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.” 

“ Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.” 

“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo’s face better than mine. 
And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.” 

“That’s true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn’t much advantage 
over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we 
can work it as far as that goes. But one’s always heard that Span- 
ish roads are impossible.” 


*8 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“They’ll be no worse for us than for Carmona,” I argued. 
“ Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of 
date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there 
must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable con- 
dition.” 

“ I happened to hear an American who’s here with a sixty horse- 
power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow 
that he’d been warned he couldn’t get beyond Madrid.” 

“ I’ve never bothered much about warnings in my life. I’ve 
generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.” 

“ We’ll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we 
go, we’re sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.” 

It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had 
brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could 
learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both 
at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately 
been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any descrip- 
tion had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fort- 
night. 

All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visit- 
ed also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be 
the Duke of Carmona’s ; but there was not one of which we could 
npt trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to 
St. Jean de Luz ; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmo- 
na had an automobile in the South of France, it was well 
hidden. 

As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards 
met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, 
into thin air. 

Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new auto- 
mobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in 
Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and 
was now being kept by some friend of Carmona’s in a private 
garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might 
take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an im- 


39 


PUZZLE: FIND THE CAR 

portant tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which 
could prevent my learning his intentions. 

As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch 
upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, 
undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the 
affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore 
Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona’s footsteps 
from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the 
time he went in again at night. 

Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent for The 
Daily Despatch of London, and The New York Recorder, the 
editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal 
of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, 
and, as he said, he was “ proud of his job,” which he intended to 
carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers 
were the business of his life. 

Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; 
ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new 
colour; had Dick Waring’s monogram, in execrable taste, put on 
the doors ; while last and most important change of all, from be- 
ing number Al2,901, the automobile became, illegally but 
convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes 
changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, 
as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercedes; so that only 
an expert of much experience would know that the car was 
not a Frenzel. 

A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for 
anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints 
as to her mother’s plans, but nothing came; and when we had 
had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy’s camp, 
it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning 
just as I was dressed. 

I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had 
happened. 

“The Duke’s gone, my lord,” he reported; “gone in a dark 


40 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

grey, covered car; I couldn’t get near enough to make sure what 
it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He’s this moment got off.” 

“Not alone?” 

“ No, my lord. I’ll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the 
window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in 
sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven 
o’clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be 
a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore gog- 
gles, but his figure was like the fellow’s who came the other day to 
our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, 
the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in 
the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke’s feet, and a good deal of 
luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San 
Sebastian; and I came to let you know.” 

“ That’s right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car 
here as soon as you can.” 

“ Car’s ready now, my lord, and so am I.” 

“Good. But don’t ‘my lord’ me. Now that I’m Mr. George 
Smith that’s even more important to remember than in Trevenna 
days. And don’t forget that the car’s Mr. Waring’s car.” 

“I won’t forget, sir.” 

He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick’s door. 

Dick was tying his necktie. “ Ready to start in five minutes,” 
said he. 

“ How did you guess what was up ? ” 

“Your face, d’Artagnan.” 

“ Why d’Artagnan ? Haven’t I a large enough variety of names 
already ? ” 

“ I’ve selected one suitable for the situation. D’Artagnan took 
upon himself a mission. So have you; and you’ll have as many 
difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.” 

“Nonsense. We’re starting out to keep in touch with another 
party of motorists.” 

“ In a country forbidden to one of us.” 

; “ That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor 


PUZZLE: FIND THE CAR 


41 


should need someone to stand by her, we’re to be on the spot to 
stand by, that’s all.” 

“ Yes; that’s all,” said Dick, laughing. “And all that d’Artag- 
nan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a 
lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh ? But d’Artag- 
nan had some fun on the way, and I’d bet the last dollar in my 
pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I’m ready. Have we time 
for co. fee and a crust ? ” 


VII 


THE IMPRUDENCE OF SHOWING A HANDKERCHIEF 



IFTEEN minutes later we were off. 


I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, 
and I’m conceited enough to fancy that no one else, 
not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, 


this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence 


bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and 
the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger. 


with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with 


the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside 
Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in 
the tonneau ; such luggage as we had, on top. 

It was scarcely eight o’clock, and there was so little traffic in 
the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We 
slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, 
past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the 
right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to 
romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses 
that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, 
and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us 
were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois 
Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning 
sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune. 

Looking ahead, in my ears sang the song of my blood, sweet 
with hope, as the name of the girl I love and the land I love, 
mingled together in music. 

Gaining the first outskirts of straggling St. Jean de Luz my 


42 


THE SHOWING OF A HANDKERCHIEF 43 

eyes and Dick’s fell at the same time upon something before us ; 
a big grey automobile, its roof piled with luggage, stationary by 
the roadside, a chauffeur busy jacking up the driving wheels, a 
tall man standing to watch the work, his hands in the pockets of 
his fur coat. Instantly Dick slowed down our car, to lean out as 
we came within speaking distance, while I sat still, secure from 
recognition behind elaborately hideous goggles. 

“ Is there anything we can do ? ” asked Dick with the gener- 
osity of an automobilist in full tide of fortune to another in ill 
fortune. I noticed as he spoke, that he made his American accent 
as marked as possible ; so marked, that it was almost like hoisting 
the stars and stripes over the transformed and repainted 
Gloria. 

“No, thank you,” said Carmona; for it was he who stood in 
the road looking on while his chauffeur worked. He had glanced 
up with anxiety and vexation on his ungoggled, dark face, at 
the first sound of an approaching car, and I knew well what 
thought sprang into his head. But a red car, with an American 
driving, was not what he had half expected to see. He was visibly 
relieved ; nevertheless, he was slow enough in answering to bring 
us to a standstill, while he peered at our wheel-caps. 

The deceitful name, glittering up to his eyes, so evidently re- 
assured him that a temptation seized me, and I yielded without 
a struggle. 

I had come prepared for a quick signal to Monica whenever 
an opportunity should arise, and, as I was anxious to let her 
know that she was not unprotected, it seemed to me that the 
first chance of doing so was better than the second. 

In an inner breast pocket of my coat I had the lace handker- 
chief which I had stolen on the night of the ball. As Dick ques- 
tioned Carmona, and Carmona answered, I flashed out the wisp 
of lace and passed it across my lips, not turning to look full at 
the slim, grey-coated figure on the front seat, yet conscious by 
a side glance that a veiled face regarded us. 

What I did was done so quickly, that I think it would have 


44 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

passed unnoticed by the Duke; but Monica, taken completely 
by surprise, bent suddenly forward; then, remembering the need 
for caution, hurriedly leaned back against the cushions. 

Carmona caught her nervous movement, saw how self- 
consciously, almost rigidly, she sat when she had recovered 
herself, and, suspicion instantly alert, turned a searchlight 
gaze on us. 

The lace handkerchief had vanished. I was sitting indiffer- 
ently, with arms folded, my interest concentrated upon the busy 
chauffeur. Still I felt there was no detail of my figure and motor- 
ing clothes that Carmona was not noting as he explained to Dick 
the nature of his mishap. 

“A simple puncture,” he said. “And we have all necessary 
means to mend it, thank you.” 

Dick and I lifted our caps to the ladies and went our way; but 
it was not until we had passed the charming Renaissance house 
where Louis Quatorze was born, that Waring made any com- 
ment on the incident. 

“If that Moor-faced chap isn’t on to the game, he’s getting 
mighty ‘ warm,’ as the children say,” he remarked dryly. 

“He can’t possibly be certain,” said I. “Even if he saw my 
face, he couldn’t swear to identifying it, as the only sight he ever 
had of me was in that asinine, yellow Romeo wig. Besides, 
Romeo had no moustache, and, thanks to your advice, I have. 
It’s the one thing that’s conspicuous under the goggles.” 

“A sort of ‘coming event casting its shadow before.’ I didn’t 
say he knew. I said he guessed. See here, while he’s waiting for 
his tyre, could we wire from this town to the frontier in time to 
have you stopped ? ” 

“ We ought to get there before any telegram he could send,” 
said I, hopefully. “However, there’ll be a lot of formalities at 
the custom-house. They might catch us before we finished. But, 
uncertain as he must be, it would hardly be worth his while — ” 

“ I wouldn’t bet much on that,” said Dick. 

“ Let’s rush it,” said I. 


45 


THE SHOWING OF A HANDKERCHIEF 

u Too risky. You’d feel such a limp ass to be detained by a 
fat policeman at the door of Spain, while Carmona and Lady 
Monica went through, and disappeared.” 

“ I’d shoot the fat policeman first.” 

“ There you are, being Spanish again, just when you ought to 
develop a little horse-sense.” 

This put me on my mettle, and in two minutes I had thought 
out a plan, while Dick whistled and reflected. 

It was rather an odd plan, and could only be carried out by 
the aid of another. But that other had never failed me yet, wdien 
loyalty or devotion were needed; and I had not got out half the 
suggestion when he understood all, and begged to do what I 
had hardly liked to ask. 

We took exactly eight minutes, by Dick’s watch, in making 
arrangements to meet an emergency which I hoped might not 
arise if our speed were good and our luck held. 

Already Hendaye, the last French town, was but just beyond 
our sight. We ran through it at high speed, passed on through 
little Behobie; and next moment our tyres were rolling through 
a brown mixture of French and Spanish mud on the international 
bridge that crosses the swirling Bidasoa. We had passed from 
Gaul to Iberia. At the central iron lamp-post, carrying on one 
side the “ R. F.” of France, on the other the Royal Arms of Spain, 
I lifted my cap in salutation to my native land, just where, had 
I been an Englishman, I should have lifted it to memories of 
grand old Wellington. 

The broad river was rushing, green and swift, down to Fuen- 
terrabia and the sea, eddying past the little He des Faisans, where 
so much history has keen made; where Cardinals treated for 
royal marriages; where Francis the First, a prisoner, was ex- 
changed for his two sons. We were across the dividing water 
now, in Irun, and on Spanish soil. High-collared Spanish soldiers 
lounging by their sentry boxes, looked keenly at us, but made 
no move, little guessing that the accused bomb-thrower of Bar- 
celona was driving past them through this romantic gate to Spain. 


46 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

We turned abruptly to the right, and, hoping still to escape trou- 
ble, pulled up at the custom-house. 

To hurry a Spanish official, I had often heard my father say, 
in old days, is a thing impossible, and we avoided an air of anxie- 
ty. The three men in the big red car appeared to desire nothing 
better than to linger in the society of the douaniers. Nevertheless, 
the chauffeur was as brisk in his movements as he dared to be. 

He it was who jumped from the tonneau, and in passable 
Spanish asked our inquisitor which, if any, of our suit-cases he 
wished to open. At the same instant a propitiatory cigarette was 
offered and accepted. 

Carefully the overcoated man selected with his eye a piece of 
luggage on the car roof. Luck was with us. It was the one easiest 
to unlock. 

In the twinkling of an eye (an American, not a Spanish eye), 
the thing was down and in the office. The douanier was about 
to inspect, in his leisured way, when a peasant entered with. some 
bags to be weighed. 

Naturally the official fell into chat with the new-comer, and 
it was necessary to remind him that we had the right of pre- 
cedence. Every moment was of importance, for already there 
was time for a telegram to have arrived. Presently there would 
be time for its instructions to be acted on as well. And at this 
moment I realized, as I had not fully realized before, all that it 
would mean to me of humiliation and defeat to fail ignominiously 
on the threshold of my adventure. 

It was hard to show no impatience as the douanier’ s lazy, 
cigarette-stained hand wandered among the contents of the suit- 
case. When any article puzzled him, he paused ; another precious 
minute gone. But eventually, having had a safety-razor explain- 
ed, he was satisfied with the inspection of the luggage, and indi- 
cated that it might be replaced. Then came the question of the 
deposit of money for the car, on entering Spain. 

Very carefully did the imperturbable official examine each 
Spanish bank-note we tendered; laboriously did he make out 


THE SHOWING OF A HANDKERCHIEF 47 

the receipt. Had he meant to detain us, his movements, his words, 
could not have been more deliberate. How I had longed to hear 
again the Spanish language spoken by Spaniards in Spain, yet 
how little was I able to appreciate the fulfilment of my long- 
cherished wish ! At last, however, every formality was complied 
with, and we were free to go. 

With all speed we took our man at his word. The leather-coat- 
ed, leather-legginged chauffeur set the engine’s heart going in 
time with his own, flung himself into the tonneau, and had not shut 
the door when Waring slipped in the clutch, muttering “ Hurray ! ” 

Another second and we should have been beyond recall; but 
hardly was the brake off than it had to go crashing on again to 
avoid running over a sergeant and two soldiers who rushed up 
and sprang in front of us, puffing with unwonted haste. 

In his hand the sergeant held an open telegram. 

“ You speak Spanish ? ” he panted. 

“ A little,” said Dick. “ French better.” 

“I have no French, senor,” replied the sergeant, “But my 
business is not so much with you as with this gentleman,” he 
glanced at the telegram, “ in the grey coat with the fur collar, the 
grey cap, the goggles in a grey felt mask, the small dark mous- 
tache, the grey buckskin gloves.” (Carmona had noticed every- 
thing.) “ Our instructions are to prevent the Marques de Casa 
Triana from going into Spain.” 

“Casa Triana? What do you mean?” cried Dick. Then he 
laughed. “ Is the person you’re talking about a Spaniard ? ” 

“ He is, senor.” 

Dick laughed a great deal more. “ Well, I guess you’ll have to 
look somewhere else. There’s a mistake. The gentleman in the 
grey coat and all the other grey things has hardly enough Spanish 
to know what you’re driving at.” 

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and looked determined. 
“ There is no mistake in my instructions, senor. I am sorry, but 
it is my duty to detain that gentleman. If there is an error there 
will be apologies.” 


48 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“I should say there jolly well was an error,” sputtered Dick, 
in his wild combination of Spanish and English and American. 
“ George, show your card. He thinks you’re a Spaniard, who’s 
‘ wanted. ’ ” 

The gentleman in the grey coat showed the visiting cards of 
Mr. George Smith, and the Spanish soldier examined them 
gloomily. “ Anybody might have these,” said he, half to us, half 
to a group of his countrymen. “ Sefior, I must reluctantly ask 
you to descend and to come with me. It will be much better to 
do so quietly.” 

“ Of all the monstrous indignities,” shouted Dick. “ I’m a news- 
paper correspondent on a special detail. I’ll wire the American 
minister in Madrid, and the English Ambassador too. I’ll — ” 

But the gentleman in the grey coat had obeyed the sergeant. 
He had also taken off his goggles. 

“ It will be all right in a few hours, or a few days,” said he in 
English. “ You must go on. Don’t worry about me.” 

“ Go on without you ?” echoed Dick, breaking again into as- 
tonishing Spanish for the benefit of the official. “Well, if you 
really don’t mind, as I’m in the dickens of a hurry. You can 
follow by train, you know, as soon as you’ve proved to these 
blunderers that you’re George Smith.” 

“ If you are Senor George Smith, you will be free as soon as 
the photograph of the Marques de Casa Triana has been sent on 
by the police at Madrid,” said the sergeant. “ If not — ” he did 
not finish his sentence; but the break was significant. And the 
soldiers closed in to separate the alleged George Smith from his 
companions of the car, lest at the last moment they should at- 
tempt a rescue. 

“We’ll make them sorry for this, George,” said Dick. “But 
(as we really can’t do much for you here, we’ll get on somewhere 
else, where we can.” 

“ I must ask also for the name of the owner of this automobile, 
and for that of his chauffeur,” insisted the sergeant, “before I 
can let you go.” 


49 


THE SHOWING OF A HANDKERCHIEF 

“Oh, all right,” said Dick, crossly, producing his passport, 
and cards with the names of the papers for which he had engaged 
to correspond. “ Ropes, fork out your credentials.” 

The chauffeur brought forth his French papers, and pointed 
to the name of Peter Ropes. The sergeant industriously wrote 
down everything in his note-book, a greasy and forbidding one. 

“It is satisfactory,” he said with dignity; “you can proceed, 
senores.” 

The engine had not been stopped during the scene; and as the 
gentleman in the grey coat was marched off to the guard-house 
with a jostling Spanish crowd at his heels, the red car in which he 
had lately been a passenger slipped away and left him behind. 

Through the streets of Irun it passed at funeral pace, as if in 
respect and regret for a friend who was lost; but once out in the 
green, undulating country beyond, it put on a great spurt of 
speed, after the chauffeur had scrambled into the front seat. 

“ Great Scott, but I’m as hot as if I’d come out of a Turkish 
bath,” growled Dick. 

“ It was a warm ten minutes,” said I. “ Poor old Ropes — 
bless him ! ” And I sent back a sigh of gratitude to the staunch 
friend in my grey overcoat, cap, goggles, and gloves, to whose 
loyalty I owed freedom. 


VIII 


OVER THE BORDER 

H ERE I was in Spain, my Spain — thanks to Ropes; 

and, again thanks to him, probably out of danger 
from Carmona s suspicions for some time to come, 
barring accidents. 

He would make inquiries at Irun when he arrived there, and 
learning that the obnoxious person had been detained according 
to information received from him, would pass on triumphantly. 
Even when fate brought his car and ours together, as I hoped it 
often would, a sight of the two remaining travellers, the American 
automobilist and his hideously-goggled chauffeur, would cause 
him amusement rather than uneasiness. 

He would say to himself that, so far as he was concerned, no 
harm had been done, even if no good had been accomplished ; 
for if the banished passenger were indeed Casa Triana, he had 
done well to get rid of him. If, after all, his quick suspicion had 
been too far-fetched, and he had caused the arrest of an innocent 
tourist, that tourist would never know to whom he owed his 
adventure, and would be powerless to trouble the Duke of 
Carmona. As for Ropes, when the photograph taken of me 
years ago by the police in Barcelona should reach the police in 
Irun, it would be seen that two young men who are twenty-seven, 
tall, slim, and have dark moustaches, do not necessarily resemble 
each other in other details. Mr. George Smith would be gener- 
ously pardoned for having occupied the attention of the police 
in place of the Marques de Casa Triana, and he would be free 
to rejoin his fellow-travellers. 


50 


OVER THE BORDER 


51 


During the three or four minutes of discussion we had had 
before making the “quick change” which transformed master 
into man, we had arranged to communicate with Ropes by . 
means of advertisements in La Independencia. We would forward 
money in advance to that journal, enough to pay for several 
advertisements, and could then telegraph our whereabouts at 
the last minute, whenever the movements of Carmona’s car gave 
us our cue. 

This was the best arrangement we could make in a hurry, and 
when we had time to reflect, it did not seem to us that, in the 
circumstances, we could have done better. 

And so, come what might, the outlaw had crossed the border, 
and was in the forbidden country of his hopes and heart. 

In spite of compunction on Ropes’ account, I was happy, 
desperately happy. I was free to watch over the girl I loved and 
who loved me; and I was drinking in the air of the fatherland. 

It did actually seem sweeter and more life-giving than in any 
other part of the world. 

Dick laughed when I mentioned this impression, and said I 
ought to try the climate of America before I judged; but he ad- 
mitted the extraordinary, yet almost indefinable individuality 
of the landscape as well as the architecture, which struck the eye 
instantly on crossing the frontier. 

It was easy to classify as peculiarly Spanish the old Basque 
churches, the long, dark lines of sombre houses bristling with 
little balconies, and sparkling with projecting windows, whose 
intricate glass panes gave upward currents of air in hot weather. 
All this, and much more was obvious in town or village; but Dick 
and I argued over the distinctive features of the landscape with- 
out fathoming the mystery which set it apart from other land- 
scapes. 

What was so peculiar ? There were hedges, and poplars, and 
other trees which we had seen a thousand times elsewhere. 
There was a pretty, though not extravagantly pretty, switchback 
road of fair surface stretching before us, roughly parallel with 


52 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


the sea, giving glimpses here and there of landlocked harbours 
with colliers and trampships at anchor. There was a far back- 
ground of snow mountains and a changing foreground of spring 
grass and spring blossoms; interlacing branches embroidered 
with new leaves of that pinky yellow which comes before the 
summer green. 

There ought to have been nothing remarkable, save for the 
moving figures which here and there rendered it pictorial; dark, 
upstanding men in red waistcoats, driving donkeys; velvet-eyed 
girls, with no covering for their heads but their shining crowns of 
jet-black hair, and none at all for their tanned feet and ankles, 
though they carried shoes in their hands; black-robed priests: 
brown-robed monks; smart officers; soldiers with stiff, glittering 
shakos, and green gloves; oxen with pads of wool on their classic, 
biscuit-coloured heads. Nevertheless, Dick agreed with me in 
finding the landscape remarkable. 

At last we began to wonder if the difference did not lie in 
colouring and atmosphere. The sky effects were radiant enough 
to set the soul of an artist singing, because of the opal lights, 
the violet banks of cloud with ragged, crystal fringes of rain, 
the diamond gleams struck out from snow peaks; and yet, 
despite this ethereal radiance, there was a strange solemnity 
about the wide reaches of Spanish country, a rich gloom that 
brooded over the landscape with its thoughtful colouring, never 
for a moment brilliant, never gay. 

“It’s painted glass-window country,” I said. “Old glass, 
painted by some famous artist who died in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, and a little faded — no, subdued by time. ” 

“ You’ve hit it, ” said Dick. “ There is an old-glass-window-in- 
a-dim-cathedral look about the sky. It gives one a religious kind 
of feeling, or anyway, as if you’d be thrown out of the picture 
if you were too frivolous. ” 

“ I feel far from frivolous, ” said I. u But I’m excited. Look 
here; we’ll be in San Sebastian and out of San Sebastian soon, 
if we keep on. But we mustn’t keep on; for if we do we may miss 


OVER THE BORDER 53 

the other car, and then I should be as badly off as if I were in 
Ropes* place at Irun.” 

“ We know they’re going to Seville, ” said Dick. 

“ It’s a long cry to Seville. And Carmona may mean to travel 
by way of Madrid, through Vitoria and Burgos, or he may mean 
to take a road which Levavasseur in Biarritz told me was better, 
steering for Seville via Santander and Salamanca. It depends on 
whether he wants to stop at the capital, I suppose. Anyhow, as 
he’s unconsciously making our arrangements as well as his own, 
there’s nothing for it but we must halt until he passes and gives 
us our lead. ” 

“ It’s all the same to me whether we halt or scorch,” said Dick. 
“I’ve got more time than anything else. This is your circus; I’m 
only the prisoner’s best friend,* as they say in a court-martial. 
But if we should go to Burgos, I’ve got an errand to do, if you 
don’t mind.” 

“ Why should I mind ? ” I asked. 

“ It’s to call on a young lady. ” 

“ You never mentioned having friends there. ” 

“ She’s Angele de la Mole’s friend. All I know is that she’s 
Irish, name O’Donnel; that she’s got a harmless, necessary 
father, and a brother in whom my prophetic soul tells me Angele 
is interested; that Papa and Daughter are visiting Brother, 
who’s in the Spanish army for some weird unexplained reason, 
and stationed in Burgos. I promised to take a package with a 
present from Angele to Miss O’Donnel if we stopped long enough 
at Burgos, or, if we didn’t go there, to post it. I’ve also a letter in- 
troducing us to Papa. Angele said it was possible he might have 
known your father, so probably he’s lived a good deal in Spain 
at one time or another, or the idea wouldn’t have occurred to her. 
She thought, if we went to see the O’Donnels, Papa might be 
useful in case you told him who you really were; but I wasn’t 
to bother you about going out of your way for their sakes; which 
is the reason I didn’t mention them until now, when you spoke 
of Burgos. ” 


54 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“If Carmona goes in that direction, he’s almost certain to 
spend the night there, ” said I, on the strength of such knowledge 
as much study of Spanish road-maps had given me. “In that 
case, we shall spend the night too, and there’ll be time for you 
to call on your O’Donnels; but as for me, I don’t know that it 
would be wise to take extraneous people into my confidence. 
And, if it won’t disappoint you, I hope we won’t have to go by 
Burgos, although they say the cathedral’s one of the finest in the 
world, for if the road’s as bad as rumour paints it, it must be 
abominable. ” 

“ Well, you’ve got your springs bound up with a million yards 
of stout cord, on purpose; and those extra buffers of India 
rubber Ropes put on to keep the tyres from grinding against the 
mud guards; so we ought to get off pretty well at worst,” re- 
marked Dick. “As for me, I shall feel defrauded if the car 
doesn’t soon begin to bound like a chamois from one frightful 
obstacle to another, along the surface of the road, such ghastly 
things have been dinned into my ears about Castile and La 
Mancha. So far, we’ve nothing to complain of, and have been on 
velvet, compared to some of the pave atrocities one remembers 
in Belgium and northern France. ” 

“I daresay we shall come to the chamois act yet,” said I. 
“But, so far, we’re still in the heart of civilization. Here’s San 
Sebastian, and here’s a cafe close to where Carmona must pass, 
so let’s stop and lie in wait. ” 


IX 


A STERN CHASE 

W were on the outskirts of San Sebastian, and to 
reach the cafe we turned off the main road and 
ran the car into a side street. There, without 
being ourselves conspicuous, we could see all 
that passed along the road beyond. We had some vermouth, sit- 
ting at a little iron table outside the cafe door, to excuse our 
presence. Every moment we expected to see the Duke’s car 
shoot by, but time went on, and it did not come. We finished our 
first edition of vermouth and had a second, with which we toyed 
and did not drink, by way of keeping our place. 

Had they punctured another tyre ? Had Carmona stopped in 
Irun, and had any mischance occurred there which might, after 
all, put the police on my track ? 

Dick and I were beginning to get restive, and question each 
other with raised eyebrows, when the big grey automobile 
charged past the end of our street. Not a head in the car turned 
in our direction; and laying a couple of pesetas on the table we 
sprang to the manning of our own road-ship. So quick was our 
start that, when we spun out into the road, there was our leader 
still within sight. 

I had heard my father speak often of San Sebastian, which, 
situated in the heart of the Basque country, had been the great 
Carlist centre, and even when Carlist hopes died, retained most 
stoutly the Carlist traditions. But, Carlist as he was at heart 
till the day of his death, he could not fail to appreciate the tact 
of Queen Cristina, by whose wish a royal summer villa had risen 

55 


56 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


over the waters of the bay. Owing to this stroke of clever policy* 
a poor and discontented town was transformed into the most 
fashionable watering place of Spain, and surely if slowly dis- 
affection merged into prosperous self-satisfaction. 

Because of stories I had heard my father tell, I should have 
liked to explore the place; but the one thing of importance now 
was to keep the grey car in sight until we could be certain which 
road it would take; so there was time only for brief glances to 
right and left as we flashed on. 

Through streets with high modern houses, more Parisian than 
Spanish, we came at last upon a broad boulevard that led us 
by the sea. There had been a picture at home of the deep, shell- 
like bay, guarded by the imposing headlands of Monte Urgull 
and Monte Igueldo, the scene of much fighting in the Carlist 
war. But the royal palace. Villa Miramar, was new to me save 
for the many photographs I had seen of it in Biarritz; and we had 
no more than a glimpse of the unpretending red brick house on 
the hill, before we swept through a tunnel that pierced a rocky 
headland, and came out into open country. 

No\y our progress developed into a stern chase. By a wrong 
turn in a San Sebastian street we lost the car ahead for a few 
moments, but beyond the town, where mud, fresh after a recent 
shower, lay inch thick on the road, we came upon the track of the 
flying foe. 

There was the trail of the “ pneus ” as clear to read as a written 
message, and we followed, relieved of doubt. 

On, on we went towards the south, and the mountains of 
Navarre, and my mind was free enough from strain at last to 
exult in each new glimpse of the land for which I longed. 

Ever since I was old enough to read, I had steeped myself in 
the history and legend of my own country. I knew all its wars, 
and where they were fought; I knew the names of the towns 
and villages, insignificant in themselves, perhaps, made famous 
by great victories or defeats; and there was time to think of them 
now, as we passed along the way the heroes of the Peninsular 


57 


A STERN CHASE 

War had taken; but there was no time to linger over landmarks, 
not even at Hernani, where De Lacy Evans’ British legion was 
shattered by the Carlist army in 1836, and where, in the church, 
we might have seen the tomb of that Spanish soldier who, at 
Pavia, took prisoner Francis I. 

Rain fell in swift, fierce downpourings, but left us dry under 
the cover of our car; and as we sped on, sudden gleams of sun- 
light shining on the wet stone pavements of small brown villages, 
turned the streets to glittering silver; while beyond, the trees 
sprayed gold like magic fountains against the white sheen of far 
snow peaks. 

Thus we ran up the winding road by the river Urumea, 
worming our way deep into the heart of the mountains ; climbing 
ever higher with a wider view unfolding to our eyes — a view 
as new, as strange to me as to Dick Waring. And yet I felt at 
home with it, as if I had known it always. 

As we ascended, the roads did what they could to deserve 
their evil reputation. The rain of a few days ago had been snow 
in the mountains. The surface of the road became like glue, 
and despite non-skidding bands, and Waring’s careful steering, 
the car declared a sporting tendency to waltz. Presently the glue 
liquefied. We were speeding through sheets of yellow soup, 
which spouted from our pneus in two great curving waves, 
spattering from head to foot the few wayfarers we met. Down 
the front glass coursed a cataract of mud, and Waring could 
steer only by looking out sideways. Thrown up by the steering- 
wheels, the yellow torrent thudded on the roof, so that we were 
driving under a flying arch of liquid Spanish earth. 

W r ith the approach to a town, however, the way improved. 
The place was Tolosa, and at the sound of our motor in the 
distance, a cry of “ Automovile, automovile, ” came shrilly from a 
score of childish throats. Even the grown-ups rushed out, and were 
far more excited than we should have expected in this motor- 
frequented part of Spain between Biarritz and Madrid. In a 
French town of the same size scarcely a head would be turned 


58 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


if an automobile passed; here people were as pleased as if we 
had been a circus, though only a few moments before they must 
have had the joy of seeing Carmona’s car go by. 

“ If it’s like this in the north, what must it be south of Mad- 
rid?” said I. “Here they’re all wonderfully good-natured; 
delighted with us in towns and villages — I believe they’d pay 
to see us if they had to ! — the road-menders give military salutes, 
and even the men whose mules and donkeys are frightened grin 
as they cover up the silly beasts’ faces with their shawls. ” 

“ That’s because we behave like decent human beings instead 
of marble-hearted scorpions,” said Dick, with an originality 
of simile which he cultivates. “ When we see that we’re frighten- 
ing anything we slow down, slip out the clutch, and glide so 
stealthily by that the creature gets no excuse for hysterics. I 
used to think before you taught me to drive, and I had the ex- 
perience and the responsibility myself , that you wasted time 
grovelling to animal prejudices; but I’ve changed my mind* 
I’ve learned there’s no fun to be got out of pig-selfishness on 
the road, and leaving a trail of distress behind. ” 

“ If you hadn’t come to feel that, I couldn’t have made over 
my car to you,” said I. “Road brutality would be peculiarly 
brutal in Spain, where motoring’s a new sport, and peasants 
must be made accustomed to it. Every motorist who slows 
down for frightened animals, or gets out to help, is paving the 
way for future motorists. ” 

“Somehow I don’t believe Carmona’ll lay much pavement 
for us, ” said Dick, chuckling. 

“ Monica won’t stand it if he doesn’t, ” said I. “ He’s got her 
sitting beside him, the beggar; and it’s his metier to please 
her. ” 

We had lost the trail of the pneus, but as the country changed 
we picked it up again. We were among trees now, and the moun- 
tain sides were green with oak and poplar, though as we dropped 
the landscape darkened into desolation. The bleak comer of 
the world towards which we were speeding had that formless, 


59 


A STERN CHASE 

featureless look which one sees on common faces, as if it had 
been shaken together carelessly by the great Creator in an 
absent-minded moment. 

No scenery can be unattractive to a motorist while his car 
goes well, and the sweet wind flutters against his face; but even 
I had to admit that this country — illumined only by snow 
mountains walling the horizon — would be irredeemable in dead 
summer heats. 

My map, which I consulted as Dick drove, said that we had 
passed out of Navarre into Alava; and suddenly I noticed that 
we had crossed the watershed, for the bright streams, instead 
of running down to the Bay of Biscay, were spinning silver 
threads towards the Ebro, on the way to tumble into the Medi- 
terranean by Tarragona. 

Here and there my longing for the strange and picturesque 
was gratified by the tragic grace of a tall, ruined watch-tower 
crowning a desolate hill, a vivid reminder of days when red fire- 
signals flashed from hill to hill to call good Christian men to 
arms against the Moors. Sometimes creamy billows of Pyrenean 
sheep surged round our car, graceful and beautiful creatures 
with streaming banners of wool, and faces only less intelligent 
than those of the grey dog that rallied them to order, and the 
brown shepherd in fluttering garments of red and blue. 

The farther south we came, the darker grew the mild-eyed 
oxen our automobile frightened. At Biarritz and beyond they 
were pale biscuit-coloured; here, the sun seemed to have baked 
them to a richer brown. 

Nevertheless, that sun had no warm welcome for us to-day. 
We were nipped by the bitter wind, which struck us the more 
coldly as we were hungry; and about two o’clock we were not 
sorry to see in the middle of a wide-stretching plain, the Concha 
de Alava — a large town which we knew to be Vitoria. 

Luncheon there might be counted upon. It was too chilly for 
a picnic meal to be feasible with ladies, therefore Carmona’s 
car must stop for an hour or two, and it was clear now that he 


60 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

would go by way of Burgos; consequently, it was on the cards 
that Angele de la Mole’s letter would be delivered by hand. 

We sneaked stealthily into Vitoria, glancing furtively about 
for a large grey Lecomte; but it was not long before we caught 
sight of it in the distance, in the main street, and drawn up 
before the principal hotel. 

I would have given a good deal if I could have got word to 
Monica; for, even if she had happened to see the red car following 
since Irun, she was probably miserable in the thought that I had 
been turned back at the door of Spain. 

Of course, in the fear of disgusting her, Carmona might have 
kept the curtain down on the little drama which he had stage- 
managed. Concealment would have been difficult, however, as 
he must have signed his telegram to the police; and on arriving 
at the custom-house, some of the facts would have been liable 
to leak out in Monica’s hearing. 

It was hard that she should be distressed for my sake as well 
as her own ; but my first fencing bout with the Duke had warned 
me against rashness, and I decided that nothing could be done 
till we reached Burgos. There, somehow, I would find a way to 
let her know that it was I, and not the Duke, who had come out 
best. 

Before joining Dick at lunch I engaged a small boy who sold 
newspapers in the street to let us know when the other car 
started. This was to prevent our being given the slip by any 
chance; but it proved a needless precaution, as we scrambled 
through a Spanish menu, and still the grey car slept in its coat 
of greyer mud before its chosen hotel; therefore Dick and I 
bolted a hasty impression of Vitoria, as we had bolted our lunch. 

He read aloud as we walked, bits out of a guide-book about 
Wellington, and King Joseph, and the battle of Vitoria that had 
decided the fate of the Peninsular War; but as it happened, I 
was more interested in a strange effect of light and darkness in 
the sky which for a moment made an unforgetable picture. 

Another wild, April storm was boiling up, and where we 


A STERN CHASE 


61 


stood in the square, below the long flight of stone steps, the high 
cathedral above seemed built against a cloud-wall of ebony. A 
long sabre of sunlight struck upon the tower and threw a ray 
of reflected gold on the white Virgin in her niche. Over all the 
town there was no other gleam of light, and so had the afternoon 
darkened that it was as if a mourning veil hung' between our 
eyes and the solemn sky. 

Suddenly the deep-toned bells of the cathedral boomed; and 
the doors opening, hundreds of women clad in black, with close- 
folded black mantillas poured out, down the double stairway 
to the square. 

As they came nearer, and each figure took individual signifi- 
cance with the breaking of the cloud, the rich browns and blue- 
shadowed greys of the buildings — deep and soft as velvet — 
attained fine value as a background for lace-framed faces, and 
the vivid colours of little children’s cloaks. 

For a single instant I forgot even Monica, in the tingling 
sensation that the life of Spain was throbbing round me, but a 
touch on my arm brought me back to her with a bound. 

“ The grey car is getting ready to start, senor, ” murmured a 
Spanish voice, as two Spanish eyes looked up — hopeful 
of pesetas — into mine. 


X 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL 

I THINK that not once did Carmona or anyone else in 
the Lecomte see the car which, with the unflagging 
obstinacy of a bloodhound, kept on the fresh trail of the 
pneus that began again outside Vitoria; for while we had 
the trail we were satisfied to hover always beyond eyeshot of 
those in front. 

We had a crowd to see us leave the town, a laughing crowd 
who seemed to wonder why people in their senses should rush 
about the world when they could stop at home and take siestas. 
And the peasants by the roadside were amazingly good-natured 
too, though we disturbed their avocations and upset the calcula- 
tions of their animals. 

Stately Spanish senores, whose long brown or indigo capas 
trailed over their mules’ backs, smiled thoughtfully and envied 
us not, rather pitied us, perhaps. Barefooted women in yellow 
shawls gave kind smiles, and flashed looks from eyes 
like stars, as often blue as black, but always singularly 
Celtic. Scarcely a face but was furnished with grave Celtic 
features; for Celts these people were long before they were 
Spaniards; and there is no type so persistent, except the 
Jewish. 

One handsome old man on a donkey so lost control of his 
beast when we swept into view, that he was dislodged, and would 
have fallen on his face had he not enmeshed his knees in some 
intricate tracery of rope. Round and round spun the frightened 
animal in the midst of the road, like a cat chasing its own tail, 

62 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL 63 


the rider toppling over, his well-cut nose all but scraping the 
ground. 

Our car was stopped and I was out in a moment, though it 
must have been a /ong and giddy moment to that human spinning- 
jenny. A few tangled seconds, and I had him unwound and re- 
seated, expecting no gratitude. But to my surprise, when I got 
the old fellow right side up, I found him wreathed in smiles, 
pouring out thanks and wishes for my good speed. Remembering 
experiences in other lands which call themselves enlightened, I 
glowed with pride of my country folk, especially when the victim 
of progress politely refused five pesetas. 

As we came nearer to Old Castile, the ancient land of many 
castles, I felt as a man must when at last he comes to a house 
which is his, though never until now has he held the key and been 
free to enter. 

The northern provinces, peopled by mysterious Basques alien 
to us in blood and language, I could scarcely look upon as Spain. 
But in Castile I saw the heart and citadel of my native country. 
My father was Andaluz ; my mother Castiliana, and she used to 
say that in my nature were united the qualities of the two pro- 
vinces — Castilian pride and stubbornness; the gaiety and 
recklessness of the true Andaluz. 

I hoped that some change of scenery, some sign given by 
Nature, might mark the passage into Castilla la Vieja; therefore 
I was grateful when the car ran upon a stately bridge hung above 
a broad river like a flood of tarnished gold. Thence we looked 
across to the old buttressed and balconied town of Miranda del 
Ebro, strange and even startling in its wild setting of white 
mountains; and as we slowed down in admiration, from a dark 
secretive tunnel which was the principal street of the place, there 
seemed to blow out, like wind-driven petals of flowers, a flock of 
girls in golden yellow, tulip red, and iris blue. Then, as we looked, 
followed a string of black mules with crimson harness, pressed 
forward by a dozen young men in short blue trousers, capped 
like Basques with the red birret. 


64 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


It was like coming into a picture which our arrival had, in 
some magic way, endowed with life; and the effect did not wear 
off as we ran into the shadow-tunnel, where the brown dust lit 
up with flames of colour. Under the balconies bristling over 
narrow calles , little shops and booths blazed with red 
and green peppers, glowed with oranges and the paler 
gold of lemons, glimmered with giant pearls which were 
Spanish onions. 

Miranda. I thought, was worthy of Old Castile; and when 
but a short distance further on, the way seemed blocked by a 
high ridge of mountains flung across our path, I began to hope 
that my mother’s country — that home of highest Spanish pride 
and honour — had some real magnificence of scenery to give us. 
We wound into the splendid gloom of the gorge of Pancorbo, cut 
like a sword-cleft in the rock; and I said that this scene alone 
was worth a journey into Spain. 

There was room only for the road, and the foaming Oroncillo 
tearing its way through the mountain. High over our heads, 
where fingers of sunlight groped, the railway from Paris to 
Madrid looped its spider’s web along the precipice, winding 
through tunnel above tunnel in miniature rivalry with the 
sublimities of the St. Gothard. Below, deep in the shadow of the 
gorge, crouched the sad village of Pancorbo itself, stricken, 
desolate, articulate only in its two ruined castles on the height, 
Santa Engracia and Santa Marta, imploring Heaven with s vent 
appeal. Still higher, towered a guardian mountain of startling 
majesty, seeming to bear aloft on a petrified cushion a royal 
crown of iron. It was a place to call up in memory with eyes shut. 
This was the majestic entrance into Castile; but it raised my 
hopes only to dash them down. Once past the serrated needles 
and fingers of Dolomite rock which made the grandeur of the 
gorge, we came again to monotony of outline, and began to 
realize Castile as it is; a vast and lonely steppe, wind swept, 
bounded by an infinite horizon. 

Treeless, silent, unbroken by hedge or boundary, guarded by 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL 65 

a ruined watch-tower on each swelling hill, the illimitable plain 
lay sombre and impressive. 

No labourers were to be seen; no villages were in sight, whence 
men could come to till the land ; yet everywhere were signs of 
cultivation by invisible hands, harvests to be reaped by men who 
would spring from one knew not where. 

Yet the monotony of these tremendous spaces was redeemed 
by such changeful splendour of colour as I had never seen. 
Swelling undulations, worthy to be named mountains, were 
warm with the purple of heather, though no heather grew upon 
them. Sometimes you could have fancied, from a sudden out- 
burst of radiance on a distant hilltop, that a rainbow had lain 
down to rest. And through all there was never absent that im- 
pression that this was painted-glass-window country with its 
rich tones of crimson and violet, its palely luminous skies, and 
the solemnity of its blended hues. Always there was a haunting 
effect of sadness, even in the spring purity of those white blossom- 
arches which decorated the brown monotony of our roads. 

The sky still burned dusky red when in the midst of a wide 
plain, the soaring twin-spires of Burgos stood up for our eyes 
against a rose veil of sunset pinned with the diamond heads of 
stars. Away to our left, as we ran towards the town, was a dark 
building like Eton College chapel standing on a wind-swept 
hill; and this I knew to be the convent of Miraflores, where 
Isabel la Catolica employed Gil de Siloe to make for her father 
and mother the “ most beautiful tomb in the world . 99 

I felt a sense of possession in the grand old town, coming upon 
it thus at its best; and I was glad that fate had driven me into 
my own land en automobile. Even though, in following Carmona 
to watch over the girl we both loved, I might have to keep often 
to the beaten track made commonplace by tourists, the way 
would never be really commonplace, as to sightseers who take 
the ordinary round by train. 

Each new hour of life on the road would build up knowledge 
for me of my people and my country. I should not be studying 


66 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

it in any obvious, guide-book way, and I should learn more of 
real Spain in a few weeks than in months of conscientious railway 
plodding from one point to another. 

There was no question which hotel Carmona might choose. 
He would go to the best; consequently unobtrusive persons 
whose hopes lay in keeping to the background, must select one 
less good. 

We halted outside the town, while I consulted a guide-book 
for the most Spanish fonda in Burgos. When, straining my eyes 
in the twilight, I read out a name, Dick exclaimed, “That’s 
where Angele’s friends the O’Donnels are staying. ” 

“ All the better, ” said I. “ You can carry out your commission 
without trouble. Perhaps you’ll see them at dinner. They’re 
sure to be the only foreigners there, so it will be easy to pick out 
their Irish faces in a dining-room full of Spaniards. ” 

There was little room in my mind for the O’Donnel family, 
however. We were near Monica now, and my one desire was to 
let her know that I had not failed. 

We drove through a fine old gateway, up a broad street, and 
past big barracks, opposite to which was the hotel where Car- 
mona would stop. But his Lecomte had already disappeared; 
and though Dick clamoured for dinner, I waited only long 
enough to secure rooms at our own fonda and put up the car, 
before going out in search of information. 

By this time the Duke and his friends would be dining, and I 
could venture as far as the lower offices of their hotel without 
much fear of being seen by Carmona’s sharp eyes. In any case, 
I decided to risk it, and on the way mapped out a plan of action. 

A couple of porters were in the bare hall of the ground floor as I 
entered. Walking in with a businesslike air, I said in Spanish, 
“Have you some people here who came in a red automobile? 
They ought to have arrived this evening. ” 

“No, senor,” replied one of the men. “We have a party 
staying for the night who came in a grey automobile. ” 

Good fellow, how well he played into my hands! Hiding 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL G7 


delight under a look of disappointment, I said that my friends 
were in a red automobile. “They may have been belated,” I 
went on. “They’ll probably turn up before midnight. I hope 
you’ll have good rooms to give them, at the front of the house. 
They’re very particular.” 

“ I’m afraid all our best rooms are occupied, ” said the man. 
“ The senor who came in the grey automobile has taken five 
rooms along the front, on the first floor, with a private sittings 
room. Unfortunately, your friends will have to put up with 
something at the back. ” 

I expressed regret, and went away joyful, having astonished 
the porter by pressing upon him two pesetas. I now knew all I 
wanted to learn, even — roughly speaking — the position of 
Monica’s room ; and I saw a way of sending her a message. 

Dick was ready for dinner when I got back, but I did not try 
his patience long. He had inquired if the O’Donnels were still 
in the hotel, and had been told that they were, though they were 
leaving in a day or two. This was all we knew when we entered 
the dining-room, but, as a good many people were still seated 
at the long table and the numerous small ones, we glanced about 
in search of Mademoiselle de la Mole’s friends. 

There was not a face to be seen which you would not confi- 
dently have pronounced to be Spanish, if you had met it at the 
North Pole. 

Dick and I sat down at a little table and began to talk in 
English, while round us on every side the Spanish language — 
pure Castilian, and slipshod, mellifluous Andaluz — gushed 
forth like a golden fountain. 

Hunger, long unappeased, at first inclined Dick to a cynical 
view of life in general, and Spanish hotel life in particular, but 
his temper improved as the meal went on, and he even forgave 
me for deserting a starving man. 

“No sign of the O’Donnels,” said he. “Perhaps they’ve a 
private dining-room. ” 

“ I doubt there’s one in the house, ” said I. 


68 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“Well, I’ll inquire later,” Dick went on. “I’ve looked at 
every face here, and — ” 

“ At one in particular, ” I cut in. 

Dick reddened. “I hope I haven’t been staring,” said he; 
“ but she is the ideal Spanish girl, isn’t she ? If I were an artist, 
I’d want to paint her. ” As he spoke, his eyes wandered towards 
the table next ours, which, since a dish of Spanish peppers, rice, 
and chicken made a man of him, had monopolized all the at- 
tention he could spare from dinner. 

I had noticed this; hence my gibe. But Dick was not far 
wrong about the girl. 

Her place at the table put her opposite him ; and her companion 
was a rotund, brown man, with the beaming face of a middle- 
aged cherub, and the habit of murmuring his contributions to 
the conversation in an Andalucian voice, with an Andalucian 
accent mellifluous as Andalucian honey. 

The girl herself was true Andaluza, too, though of a very 
different type from the cherubic person who (Dick hoped) was 
her father. No such brown stars of eyes ever opened to the world 
outside Andalucia ; nor did any save an Andaluza know, without 
being taught, how to give such liquid, yet innocent, glances as 
those which occasionally sparkled from under her long lashes 
for Dick, when the Cherub was not looking. 

She was a slim young thing, with a heart-shaped face of an 
engaging olive pallor; a pretty, self-conscious mouth, which 
changed bewitchingly from moment to moment; and heavy 
masses of dark hair piled high after the Spanish fashion, as if to 
suit a mantilla — hair so smooth and glossy that, from a little 
distance, it had the effect of being carved from a block of ebony. 

“She’s perfect of her kind,” said I; “but I thought you 
preferred American types.” 

“Rot!” said Dick. “Comparisons are odious. I say, thank 
Heaven for a pretty girl, whatever she may be. But there’s 
something particularly fascinating about this one. ” 

“ I see a serious objection to her from your point of view, ” I 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL 69 

went on. “She’s too young. You draw the line at them under 
twenty-two. I’ll bet you she won’t see twenty-two for a couple of 
years yet. ” 

“ She might be worth waiting for, ” said Dick. 

“ No good. She’ll be married long before twenty-two. All self- 
respecting Spanish girls are. You’d better not think of her any 
more. Forget her, and look up Miss O’Donnel. ” 

“ Angele de la Mole says Miss O’Donnel’s pretty, ” said Dick. 
As he spoke, he beckoned a waiter; and I noticed that the girl 
with the eyes no longer made any pretence of hiding her in- 
terest in Dick. She even whispered to her companion, who, after 
listening to what she had to say, turned to look at us with benign 
curiosity. 

“ Ask whether he knows Colonel O’Donnel and Miss O’Don- 
nel by sight, ” Dick commanded when the waiter appeared, to 
breathe benevolence and garlic upon us in equal quantities. 
He was shy of airing his own Spanish before a roomful of Spanish 
people. 

I asked; the waiter looked surprised, and to Dick’s confusion 
and my astonishment, indicated the occupants of the next table. 

“ The colonel and the senorita, ” said he. It was so startlingly 
like an introduction that the cherubic brown man sprang up and 
bowed; and the girl, bending over the mazapan in her plate, 
let us see the very top coil on her crown of black hair. 

Dick, overwhelmed, and recalling every word we had said, as a 
drowning man recalls each wicked deed of his life from childhood 
up, got to his feet, and began stammering explanations, 

“ Well, that shows what an idiot a man can make of himself, ” 
said he. “ Miss — Mademoiselle de la Mole gave me a letter of 
introduction, and a parcel with some little present, and I was 
looking around for you. My name’s Richard Waring; I don’t 
know whether mademoiselle’s written about me. Anyhow — ” 

“Senor,” announced Colonel O’Donnel, grieved at Dick’s 
distress; “no entiendo. ” 

“Habla usted espanol?” asked the girl. “No Inglees, we, 


70 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

much. ” And she smiled a dimpled smile, straight at Dick, with 
one side glint for me. 

Dick was, to use against him a favourite word of his own, 
flabbergasted. “ Then you’re not Colonel and Miss O’Donnel ? ” 
said he. “ I though you couldn’t be, but — ” 

“Si, si,” the Cherub reassured him, nodding. “O’Donnel. 
Aw — right. ” He laughed so contagiously that we laughed to; 
and I found my heart warming to these unexpected, surprising 
friends of Angele de la Mole’s. 

“Me Maria del Pilar Ines O’Donnel y Alvarez,” the girl 
introduced herself. Angele de la Mole, mi — mi fren” Having 
wavered so far, between Spanish and English, she flung herself 
headlong into her native tongue. This was the signal for the 
Cherub also to begin fluent explanations, both fluting Andaluz 
together, and so fast, that Dick (painstakingly taught a little 
Castilian by me in leisure moments) found himself at sea, 
and drowning. 

I had to translate for him such facts in the O’Donnel family 
history as I could unravel from the tangled web. The mystery 
of Angele de la Mole’s Spanish-speaking Irish friends (which 
she must have refrained from explaining in order to play a joke 
upon Dick) was solved in a sentence. An O’Donnel grandfather 
had fought in Spain under Wellington in the Peninsular War, 
and stayed in Spain because he loved a Spanish girl who had 
many acres. The Cherub’s father was born in Spain, and spoke 
little English. The Cherub himself spoke none, or but a word 
or two. He was a colonel in the Spanish army, now retired. 
That was all ; except that his son and daughter had once studied 
an English grammar, until they came to the verbs; then they 
had stopped, because life was short and full of other things. 
“ But, ” said Miss O’Donnel proudly, “ me know, two, three, 
word. Lo-vely. Varry nice. Aw raight. Yes. ” 

When she thus displayed the store of her accomplishments, 
punctuated with dimples, any man not head over ears in love 
with another girl, would have given his eyes to kiss her. I was 


THE UNEXPECTEDNESS OF MISS O’DONNEL 71 

sorry for Dick. As for me — I found myself longing to tell Dona 
Maria del Pilar Ines O’Donnel y Alvarez all about Lady Monica 
Vale, with the conviction that her help would be of inestimable 
value. 

Such is the power of a girl’s eyes upon weak man, even when 
he adores a very different pair of eyes ; and already it was strange 
to remember my stiff disclaimer of a wish to know the O’Donnels. 
I had called them “ extraneous. ” What a dull ass ! 


XI 


MARIA DEL PILAR TO THE RESCUE 

A T last, when the general confusion had subsided, I 
was able to impress upon the delightful pair that, 
/ % if they would but speak very slowly, and kindly 

trouble themselves to give a word of three syllables, 
say, two of them (a punctilious habit disapproved in Anda- 
lucia) Senor Waring would be able to join the conversation. 
With true Spanish goodheartedness they did their best, 
though Heaven knows what it must have cost them. Dick also 
did his best, with a conscientious American pronunciation; 
but where tongues halted, eyes spoke a universal language, and 
we all got on so well that in ten minutes we might have known 
each other for ten years. 

By the end of those minutes we were asked to the O’Donnel’s 
sitting-room, which had been furbished up out of a bedroom; 
and there Dick brought the famous letter of introduction and 
the white paper parcel tied with pink ribbon. 

My name had not been mentioned by Angele. I was merely a 
“ friend of Mr. Waring’s ”; and, it seemed, I had been designated 
vaguely thus in a previous letter in which our arrival had been 
prophesied. This had been Angele’s way of leaving it open for 
me to introduce myself as I pleased ; but now there was no secret 
with which I would not have felt myself safe in trusting our old 
friends the O’Donnels, so I gave them my real name. 

The Cherub’s face lit up. “ I knew your father well,” said he. 
“ We learned soldiering together as boys, though he was four or 
five years my senior, and the hero of my youth. Our ideas” — 

72 


73 


MARIA DEL PILAR TO THE RESCUE 

he coughed in an instant’s embarrassment — “ were different. 
This separated us. But I never forgot him. He was a great man; 
and it’s an event to meet his son. When I saw you downstairs in 
the dining-room, it was like going back thirty years. Such a 
young man as you are now, was your father when I had my last 
sight of him. You are his living portrait.” 

We shook hands; and I believe, with the slightest encourage- 
ment, the dear old fellow would have planted a kiss on each of 
my cheeks. That he did not, was a tribute to my English educa- 
tion. 

The next thing was, that at Dick’s request I was telling them 
everything ; and as Pilar listened to the story which prefaced my 
errand in Spain, her eyes, which had been stars, became suns. 
When I spoke Carmona’s name, she and her father uttered an 
exclamation. 

“ El Duque de Carmona ! ” echoed the Cherub. 

“ He ! ” cried Pilar. And they looked at each other. 

For a single second, I asked myself if my frankness had been 
a mistake. 

“ You know the Duke ? ” I asked. 

“ Santa Maria, but do we know him ! ” breathed the girl. “ I 
wish we could tell you no.” 

“You don’t like him?” 

“ Do we like the Duke, Papa ? ” 

The good Cherub shook his head portentously. “ The Duke of 
Carmona is a bad man,” he said. “He has not done us any 
harm — ” 

“ Oh — oh ! ” Pilar cut him short. “ He has not driven into a 
convent one of my best-loved friends ? ” 

“My daughter refers to a sad story,” explained her father. 
“ In Madrid it made a stir at the time. He jilted a school friend of 
Pilarcita’s. That is almost an unheard-of thing in Spain; but he 
did it. The young girl’s family got into trouble at Court — an 
insignificant affair; but the Duke is ambitious of favour. He had 
something to retrieve, after the scandal during the Spanish- 


74 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


American War, when he was quite a young man — not more 
than twenty-four — and — ” 

“You mean, the story that he speculated in horses — bought 
wretched crocks cheap and sold them to the army for the cavalry, 
with the connivance of the vets he’s supposed to have bribed ? ” 

“Yes. He managed to clear himself; but the royalties looked 
at him coldly, and he was not a man to bear that. The father of 
the girl — Pilarcita’s friend — was at one time much liked by 
the young King, and people thought it was his motive for en- 
gaging himself. With the first breath of the storm the Duke was 
off ; and the discarded fiancee entered as a novice the convent 
where she and my daughter went to school. That is why Pilarcita 
so much dislikes him — ” 

“ But it’s not all ! ” cried the girl. “ What about the grey bull, 
poor Corcito.” 

Colonel O’Donnel laughed his gentle, chuckling laugh. 

“ Our home is close to a ganaderta — a bull-farm of the 
Duke’s near Seville,” he explained indulgently. “The places 
adjoin; and as I’ve allowed this Pilarcita to grow up a wild girl, 
very different from the young ladies of Seville she should emulate, 
she has made friends of the Duke’s cattle. There were, some 
years ago, a grey bull that was as tame with her as a pet dog; 
but it took a dislike to the Duke, who came to have a look at his 
bulls once, and attacked him. The saying is that the Moorish 
blood in the Carmonas gives them a cruel temper. At all events, 
Carmona could not forgive the bull its disrespect, and promptly 
had it sent off to the slaughter-house, though it was a toro bravo .” 

“ That’s like him,” said I. 

“ There’s nothing he wouldn’t do against an enemy, or to gain 
a thing he wanted,” said Pilar, turning to me. “ Take care, now 
he wants something you want.” 

“It’s been so between our families for generations,” I said. 
“ My grandfather ran away with the girl his grandfather wanted 
to marry, and my father and his in their youth had a furious law- 
suit.” 


75 


MARIA DEL PILAR TO THE RESCUE 

“ Which won ? ” asked the girl. 

“My father.” 

“ Be sure he will remember,” said she. “ Oh, how I wish we 
could help you ! It would be such a revenge upon him for poor 
Eulalia and for Corcito. Papa, can't we do something ? ” 

“ If we could,” echoed the Cherub, “ for his father's son ! " 

Suddenly the girl jumped up and clapped her hands. “ Oh, I 
have thought of the thing! ” she cried “ It would be like a play.” 
But her face fell. “I don’t know how to propose it,” said she. 
“Perhaps you and Mr. Waring would disapprove. And how 
could we invite ourselves — ” 

She stopped; but I made her go on. “Please tell us,” I said. 
“It’s sure to be a splendid plan. And anything associated with 
you would bring luck.” 

“This would be very much associated with us,” said she, 
laughing ; “ for the idea is that, instead of going home by rail as 
we meant to do, day after to-morrow, we go on in your car with 
you, pretending to be Mr. Waiting’s guests, and you supposed 
to be my brother Cristobal.” 

“Pilarcita, some wild bird has built its nest in your brain,” 
said the Cherub. 

“Wait till I finish!” the girl commanded. And it was easy to 
see that, though her father shook his head, she was a spoilt darl- 
ing who could do nothing wrong. 

“I only wish Cristobal were here,” she went on, breathlessly; 
“ but there was a regimental dinner, and he had to leave us. He’ll 
come in later, and you shall meet him, and hear what he says to 
the plan. Oh, there’s not much fear that he’ll object, when you 
are Angele’s friend, and she’s doing all she can for you. He’d 
walk through fire to please Angele. And this would be but to 
give up his leave — or at least the going home with us — and 
lending you his uniform, which I’m sure would fit you sweetly.” 

I could not help laughing at the way she disposed of her 
brother and his plans, to say nothing of those she was making 
for me; but she rushed on, anxious to justify her counsel. 


76 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“You don’t understand yet,” she insisted. “It’s a wonderful 
idea. You see, papa and I have met the Duke in Madrid, at 
friends’ houses. I’ve scarcely spoken to him, for Spanish girls 
don’t have much chance to talk with men, but he’ll remember 
me, and papa too. The lucky thing is, he’s never seen my brother 
since Cristobal was a little boy, and then no more than once or 
twice, when he came out to his ganaderia. He must know, if he 
stops to think, that papa has a son; that’s all. And you say the 
Duke only saw you at the fancy dress ball, in a Romeo costume, 
with a fair wig. When Lady Monica gave that start forward, 
and looked at you in the automobile, although you’d made your 
car different he fancied you might be in it, and telegraphed to 
have the man he suspected kept back at Irun. Well, it was clever 
of you to change with your chauffeur; but all the same, if you go 
on, dressed as a chauffeur, you can never have a chance to get 
near Lady Monica. And if you appear as yourself, even though 
the Duke isn’t sure it’s you , he’ll keep Lady Monica out of your 
way. And her mother will help him, as she wants them to marry. 
But think how different for my brother! We all happen to meet 
— suppose it’s in the cathedral * — and papa says : ‘ How do you 
do? You don’t remember Cristobal?’ He’d simply have to 
accept you as Cristobal, although he might find Cristobal 
rather like that troublesome Marques de Casa Triana.” 

“ Casa Triana is also Cristobal,” I laughed. “ Ramon Cris- 
tobal.” 

“ All the better. We shouldn’t any of us have to fib. I always 
said Cristobal is the luckiest saint to have for a patron. See how 
he’s offering his help to you. And oh, did you know he’s the patron 
saint of automobilists ? To-morrow I’ll give you a Cristobal 
medal to nail on your car. They’re made on purpose ; such ducks ! 
But now do you begin to understand what I’m driving at, and 
that it wasn’t just impudence to suggest our going in your auto- 
mobile, papa and I ? What with us, and San Cristobal, you ought 
to get your foot on the Duke’s head.” 

“ But what about your brother Cristobal ? ” 


MARIA DEL PILAR TO THE RESCUE 77 

“Oh, he! We must all thank San Cristobal that he has this 
leave, otherwise the Duke could easily find out; but instead of 
going home he can go — why, he can go to Biarritz, where he 
will see Angele, so it will be nice all round. And imagine yourself 
in his uniform, walking with us in the cathedral, where the Duke 
is sure to take Lady Monica and her mother, — otherwise, why 
stop at Burgos ? One comes for that, and nothing else, unless 
one has a little brother in the garrison. Now what do you say, 
Don Ramon ? ” 

“I say you’re an angel,” I replied with promptness. “But I 
also say that Colonel O’Donnel won’t allow such an arrange- 
ment.” 

“Oh, won’t he?” exclaimed Pilar. “Do you think I’m an 
ordinary girl of southern Spain, who says ‘yes, yes,’ and ‘no, 
no,’ as her parents wish, and looks down on the ground while life 
passes ? Only to think of being like that is enough to make a 
woman grow a moustache and have an embonpoint out of sheer 
ennui. It’s my Irish heart which keeps my father and brother 
alive; and when I want to do a thing they hurry to let me do it 
lest I have a fit — of which I would be capable.” 

“As you are a Cristobal,” said the Cherub mildly, “it might 
be managed, if you liked, without our having to go more than an 
extra time to confession. I could wear the sin upon my conscience, 
if you could; and if you could wear also the uniform of my son.” 

“I’d like to see Carmona’s face when you’re introduced,” 
remarked Dick, in his slow Spanish. 

“You will see it,” exclaimed Pilar; and with this, the door 
opened and the other Cristobal came in. 


XII 


UNDER A BALCONY 

I LIKED the brother because he had his sister’s eyes, and — 
being the ordinary, selfish, human man — I liked him 
still better for his enthusiastic desire to help the last 
of the Casa Trianas. Whether his enthusiasm was for 
the sake of Casa Triana, or Angele de la Mole, was a detail. It 
had the same effect upon my affairs; and having taken very little 
time for reflection. I let myself be hurried away on the tide. 

Pilar — as unlike a Spanish girl in mind as she was like one 
in face — stage-managed us all. We merely accepted our parts 
in the play, I thankfully, the others calmly. 

Brother Cristobal was, perhaps, not sorry to make an unex- 
pected flight to Biarritz, with news of Dick and me as an excuse, 
instead of spending his leave tamely at home. There was, at all 
events, a suspicious alacrity about the way in which he agreed to 
disappear as early as possible the following day. As he was wear- 
ing the uniform which was to be made over to me, it was decided 
that he should bring it to my room next morning before hearing 
mass at the cathedral. It was Pilar’s idea that I should go there 
with him, getting off before the fonda was fully astir, and find a 
sanctuary in dusky corners of remote chapels until my friends 
arrived. 

“We’ll find out when the Duke and his mother take Lady 
Monica to look at the cathedral,” said the girl, delighting in her 
own ingenuity; “and then we’ll start too. Though we can’t bear 
the Duke, we’ve always been civil to him and his mother when- 
ever we’ve met in Madrid, praise the saints, so they can’t be rude 

78 


UNDER A BALCONY 


79 


to us now. If we go up and speak, they’ll have to introduce us to 
Lady Vale- A von and Lady Monica. I shall take a great fancy at 
first sight to Lady Monica, of course; and I shouldn’t wonder if 
I can make her like me. The rest will be easy for the whole trip. 
Oh, we shall have fun!” 

I began to think we should, and that, thanks to a girl’s counter- 
plotting, I should have pretty plain sailing in spite of Carmona. 
But because I began to see land ahead, I was the more anxious 
to give Monica peace of mind; and when we said good-night to 
the O’Donnels about half -past ten, I set out to carry through the 
plan I had thought of before dinner. 

On the wall of the landlord’s office, off the main hall, I had 
seen a guitar hanging. It belonged to his son, a romantic-looking 
young fellow, whose sympathetic soul delighted in lending the 
national aid to courtship, without asking a single question. 

I would be no true Spaniard if I could not play the guitar; and 
in fact my mother had given me some dexterity with the instru- 
ment, before I was ten years old. I had neglected it for years; 
nevertheless, my fingers had but to touch the strings to be on 
friendly terms with them at once. 

Madrid and Seville would probably be waking up to fullest 
life at this hour; but in provincial towns one goes to bed early 
because there is nothing more amusing to do. 

At eleven the windows of the principal hotel were dark; and 
without being stared at curiously by any passer-by, I stationed 
myself under the first floor balconies, with my guitar. 

I did not know which room was Monica’s, but I did know that 
it could not be far away; and I counted on the chance that anx- 
ious thoughts might keep her from sleeping soundly. 

Softly, and then more boldly, I began to thrum the air of the 
Hungarian waltz which they had played that night at the Duch- 
ess of Carmona’s, while I told Monica I loved her. Often its pas- 
sionate refrain had echoed in my ears since, and brought the 
scene before me. I hoped that Monica also might remember. 

Five minutes passed, and still I played on, yet nothing happen- 


80 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


ed. Then, when I had begun to fear failure, I heard a faint sound 
overhead. A window was opening. There was no gleam of light, 
no whisper; but something soft and small fell close to my feet. 
I stooped and picked it up. It was a rose, weighted by a grey 
suede glove, tied round the stem; and the glove was scented with 
orris, the same delicate fragrance which had come to me when I 
kissed Monica’s hand, and her letters. 

She had had my message, and answered it. 


XIII 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CATHEDRAL 

B EFORE six next morning, Cristobal O’Donnel was 
tapping at my door, with the promised uniform and 
accoutrements concealed under the military overcoat 
which was also to be put at my disposal. 

Hearing our voices, Waring appeared, yawning, at the door of 
the adjoining room, and there was a good deal of stifled laughter 
among the three of us,' as I got into my borrowed red and blue. 
The things fitted well enough, as I have only an inch or two the 
advantage of the other Cristobal, and even the cap accommodat- 
ed itself to my head almost as if it had been made for me. When 
I was ready for the part assigned by Pilar, Dick said that I had 
never looked so well before, and probably never would again. 

My suit-cases were packed, and the programme which Dick 
had to carry out when O’Donnel and I had gone, was to settle 
our account at the hotel, get the luggage bestowed on the roof of 
the car, and finally to drive round to the cathedral door, in order 
to start from there in the end, without going back to the jonda 
or garage. We were grumbling at the absence of poor Ropes, 
when there was a discreet knock at the door, and Ropes himself 
appeared as we opened it, like a jack-in-the-box. 

His happy smile was changed to a stare of surprise at sight of 
me in the uniform of a Spanish officer, but true to his training he 
ironed all expression out of his features in an instant, and 
allowed himself to look only decorously pleased when Dick and 
I welcomed him with enthusiasm. 

“ Well done ! ” said I. “ Did you break out of gaol ? ” But to 

81 


82 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

tell the truth I was faintly uneasy; because, if he had, it would 
mean trouble for us all presently, when we had been traced by 
the police. Rut I need not have doubted the faithful Ropes. 

“No, sir, I didn’t break out,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have 
done that in any case, though I didn’t like to think of my work on 
your hands. Rut I’ll tell you how it was, if I won’t be disturbing 
you.” 

O’Donnel, who could not understand a word, thought that he 
must be off, as he wanted to hear mass and catch the train for 
Biarritz. I let him go without me, therefore ; and after our good- 
byes, Dick and I clamoured for Ropes’ story. 

“ It was a rum go altogether, sir,” said he. “ They took me off 
to the head police office at Irun, and the chief asked me all man- 
ner of questions ; but I kept on repeating ‘ no comprendo,’ and 
showing the cards of Mr. George Smith. I couldn’t understand 
all their jabber, but they mentioned your name, and from the 
way they looked when I put on my stupid airs, I thought they 
began to have their doubts. The chief policeman motioned me 
to stop where I was, and ordered two of the men to go some- 
where. From my place, I could see the bridge, and the two police- 
men who seemed to be looking for something. 

“ Ry and by came the thrum of an automobile, and I could tell 
it was a Lecomte. A minute later the chaps outside were talk- 
ing to the Duke of Carmona, who stopped his car where they 
were. They talked a bit ; then he gave the wheel to his chauffeur 
and came into the police office. The chief treated him very 
deferential; they laid their heads together in a corner, but I 
could see them reading a telegram, and once and again they had 
a squint at me. 

“ I knew too much to let on I suspected the Duke of a hand 
in the business, but having heard him answer Mr. Waring 
about the tyre in English as good as my own, I jumped up and 
asked if he’d interpret for me with the police. I explained what 
had happened, showed my card, and said there’d been a silly 
mistake which was causing me no end of annoyance. Then I 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CATHEDRAL 83 

said I’d write to The Times , about the sort of thing that happened 
to Englishmen travelling in Spain, and talked of the Embassy at 
Madrid. 

“ All the time I was speaking the Duke pulled his moustache 
and stared so hard, if I’d had on a false moustache or wig, or any 
of that kind of business, he’d have been sure to find it out. He 
looked cross and puzzled too ; but finally he said, as I was Eng- 
lish, and he believed they were wanting a Spaniard, there must 
be a mistake, and he would do the best he could to help me. I 
suppose he must have told them they were on the wrong job 
after all, for after he’d gone, and they’d buzzed awhile and made 
out a lot of papers, they said that as a very important person 
certified to my being Mr. George Smith, I could go. 

“ By this time it was afternoon, and I wanted to get on as soon 
as possible, so I took the next train for San Sebastian, and hunted 
up a place to hire a motor bike. I didn’t know where you’d have 
gone after that, so I couldn’t book by train; but I counted on 
picking up your trail if I kept the road.” 

“ How could you expect to do that, since there must be a lot of 
automobiles going back and forth between Biarritz and San 
Sebastian, even at this time of year ? ” said I. 

“Why, from the non-skids, sir. I’d know ours anywhere. 
There’s three of the steel studs worn close down on the off driving 
wheel, which makes a queer little mark in dust or mud. I could 
even see, once I got on to the tracks, that you’d followed the 
Duke’s car, for your tracks came sometimes on his, almost ob- 
literating his trail for a bit. I can tell you, sir, it cheered me up 
to be coming on your tracks like that. Made me feel at home in 
a strange country. The bike took me along pretty well, too; but 
do the best I could, night came on without my overtaking you. 
For fear of losing the tracks, I put up at a posada , got under way 
the minute there was a streak of dawn, and found you here by 
inquiring.” 

“You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes as well as a thorough 
brick, Ropes,” said I. “Now, have something to eat; get the 


84 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

motor bicycle back to San Sebastian by rail, and be ready for 
another start.” 

With this I was off, leaving him to Dick. I turned the collar 
of Cristobal’s big coat up to my eyes, pulled the cap down far 
enough almost to meet it, and went out, praying to meet none of 
Cristobal’s fellow-officers. - 

The wild wind for which Burgos is famed wailed through the 
long, arcaded streets with their tall yellow buildings, and tried to 
hurl me back from the great honey-coloured gateway with its 
towers and pinnacles, where I would have paused to pick out the 
statue of the Cid from other battered statues in weather-beaten 
niches. 

The few men who passed, wrapped in plack capas turned over 
with blue or crimson, had the fine-cut, melancholy features of 
those who live in northern cold, and their glances were as chill as 
the weather. But that was better than if they had taken too much 
interest in a strange face in a familiar uniform ; and it would have 
needed more than a freezing stare to blight the spring in my heart, 
for I was going to Monica. 

I was ready to love Burgos for the sake of my childhood’s hero, 
the brave old Cid, with whom every stone seemed to be associat- 
ed. This was the city of the Cid as well as the country of the 
Cid ; and if I had come into my fatherland as a sightseer, and 
not as a lover, I should have gone on a pilgrimage to his tomb 
at the convent of San Pedro de Cardena, only a few kilometres 
out of Burgos — that City of Battles. 

As it was, I should have to be content with reading about it in 
some book, for Carmona would not desert his car to go; and 
where Carmona went, there must I go also. 

At least I had a cup of coffee at “ The Cafe of the Cid ” on my 
way to the cathedral; and the first landmark I sought in that tri- 
umph of Gothic grandeur was the coffer of the Cid. I might have 
hours to wait, I knew, before the others would come, though in 
order to reach Valladolid at a decent hour, they must not delay 
too long. But sooner or later they would certainly arrive, for 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THEr CATHEDRAL 85 

Carmona could not, for shame’s sake, rush Monica out of Burgos 
without showing her the glory of Burgos. And meanwhile, for 
none save a paltry soul could Time have halted, heavy-footed, 
as a companion in that realm of shadowed splendour. 

It was the first of the famous cathedrals of Spain on which I, 
an outcast son, had set my eyes; and a glimpse of the twin-spires 
from afar had given me some inkling of its beauty. Wrapped in 
sunset flames, I had seen the towers as if cut in precious stones, 
chiselled, according to legend by angels, like a queen’s bracelet, 
adorned like an old reliquary. I had said to myself that the vast 
building was a wild festival in a stone, a bravura song in architec- 
ture. And if I remembered, as I looked, other twin towers which 
are the glory of the Rhine, I tried to put the reminiscence 
away, because I wanted the cathedrals of Spain to be different 
from those of any other country. I wanted them to speak to 
me with their own national inspiration. And this morning, as I 
flitted with the other shadows into the solemn dusk of the 
great nave, I was satisfied. I found no German inspiration here. 
Each detail struck the same curiously national note, from the 
rare iron-work to the octagonal lantern, a miracle of Plateresque 
design, which lifted itself, clear and bright, above the centre of 
the great church. Perhaps the effect lay partly in the gorgeous 
colour, colour never tawdry, never vulgar, as I had seen it some- 
times in Italy; or else in the wonderful reliefs; statues in niches 
of gold, flowering stones, arabesques, alabaster columns, richly- 
toned pictures ; but no matter whence it came, it was there, and 
could have been nowhere except in Spain. 

I wandered from chapel to chapel, saw the strange mummy- 
like figure of the Christ of Burgos, supposed to shed blood every 
Friday; admired the treasures of the sacristy; and, I am half- 
ashamed to say, had just dedicated a candle to propitiate San 
Cristobal, when my heart gave a leap at sight of four persons 
who appeared from behind the grand coro which fills the nave. 

The old Duchess of Carmona, brown, stout, yet somehow 
stately, and the tall figure of Lady Yale-Avon advanced towards 


86 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

me, side by side. Behind came Monica, fresh and sweet in her 
white-winged grey hat and travelling dress, and the Duke of 
Carmona, dark as a Moor in contrast with her young fairness. 

I dared not break upon her unexpectedly, after my experience 
of yesterday, so I turned away, and entering a chapel 
interested myself in a tomb which is the cherished jewel of the 
cathedral. 

How long I could have kept my patience under provocation 
I can’t tell ; but my strength of mind had not been tested for five 
minutes when I heard the voice of my adopted sister Pilarcita. 
She and the excellent Cherub were claiming acquaintance with 
the Duke. 

They were close to the chapel in which I stood. Half turning 
I saw the group, which consisted of six persons. Dick was not 
among them, and I wondered whether he were absent by accident 
or design. 

Now the Duchess and the Cherub were talking together. Now 
the O’Donnel’s were being introduced to Lady Yale-Avon and 
Monica. The two girls began chatting together. Dear Pilar, what 
a jewel of a sister she was ! 

“Do you remember Cristobal?” I heard her suddenly ask 
Carmona, in a voice raised to such clear distinctness that I guess- 
ed she had seen a uniform behind the iron- work of the half -open 
chapel door. “ You saw my brother, I think, when he was a little 
boy. He’s stationed here now; we’ve been visiting him.” 

I took this as my cue, and turning from the sleeping figure of 
Bishop Alonso de Cartagena, I walked out of the chapel to join 
my adopted family. 

“ Why, here’s Cristobal now ! ” exclaimed Pilar. 

Then, in a flash, she had me introduced to all, leaving Monica 
till the last, so that the girl might have time to get her breath after 
the first shock of surprise. 

Whether it was that yesterday had given her a lesson in self- 
control, or whether Pilar had contrived to whisper some word 
concerning her brother, I could not tell; but if Monica changed 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CATHEDRAL 87 


colour I could not see it, perhaps because a darkening of the sky 
outside had begun to deepen the rich dusk of the cathedral. 

For her own sake I scarcely dared look at her; and my silence 
must have passed with the others for the shyness of a young 
soldier among strangers. But I did look at Carmona, feeling his 
eyes upon me, and met a stare as searching as Rontgen rays. 

His face is not one easy to read ; but for once the windows of 
his mind were wide open. If he had recognized me, and guessed 
the trick -which had been played on him he would have worn a 
very different expression; but he was bewildered, uneasy, as he 
had been yesterday when he saw Monica lean forward, blushing, 
to gaze at a masked man in a motor-car. 

He realized the likeness between Cristobal O’Donnel y 
Alvarez and his own dangerous, though ineligible rival, Casa 
Triana. I could see the thought dart into his mind nd rankle; 
I could see him push it into a dark corner kept for the rubbish of 
imagination. I knew how he was telling himself that there could 
be no connection or collusion between the O’Donnel family and 
Casa Triana. I hoped he also soothed his anxiety by reminding 
himself that in all probability Casa Triana, in the blue Gloria 
car once seen by his chauffeur, was busily forgetting Monica 
Vale in some distant part of Europe. Carmona had admitted 
one mistake yesterday: he would not be ready to fall into an- 
other to-day. 

Lady Vale-Avon was also gazing somewhat sharply at the 
young Spanish officer, a brother of those old acquaintances of 
the Duke’s. But now she coaxed her eyesight by lifting a lorgnette 
which, as Mary Stuart, she had not been able to carry on the 
night of our former meeting; and when a questioning glance at 
Carmona met with no alarming answer, the suspicious frown 
faded from her forehead. 

After a few words we all, as if with one accord, began to move 
on upon the tour of inspection ; and still there was no sign of Dick. 

I would defy anyone to hold out for more than five minutes 
against the charm of the Cherub. Without raising his voice above 


88 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

a honeyed murmur, and with nothing particular to say, by sheer 
force of cherubic, Andaluz charm of manner he fascinated the 
Duchess of Carmona, and even Lady Vale-Avon, to whom he 
was a new type. She had been studying Spanish with an eye to 
the future, for she understood and answered Colonel O’Donnel; 
but with apparent innocence and real subtlety he contrived to 
keep the Duke busy explaining him, and murmured so many 
funny things that even Carmona was obliged occasionally to 
burst out laughing. 

Meanwhile, Monica, Pilar, and I were left to follow behind, 
greatly against the will of the Duke, as I guessed by the sulky 
set of his shoulders. 

“Quick, quick, into this chapel,” whispered Pilar, “before 
they look round. Then they won’t know where we’ve disappeared, 
and you’ll have five minutes grace.” As she spoke, she caught 
Monica by the arm, and whisked her into the Capilla del Con des- 
table. Once behind the iron lattice, she darted away as if moved 
by a sudden passion to gaze at the carved altar piece. 

“How wonderful!” said Monica. I caught her hands, which 
she held out to me, and then we laughed into each other’s eyes, 
in sheer happiness and triumph over fate. “To think that you’re 
here, after all.” 

“ Wherever you are, I’m going to be, while you want me,” said 
I, “ and until we know whether I shall have to take you away.” 

“ I might have known you wouldn’t fail me,” she said. “ But I 
was so unhappy yesterday. When I saw that handkerchief I 
knew at once who you were though I should never have guessed, 
with those awful goggles, and I couldn’t help giving a jump, and 
getting red. But I shall never be so stupid again. I’ll be prepared 
for anything. Just a whisper from Senorita O’Donnel was enough 
this time. 'While we shook hands she said, ‘ Something’s going to 
happen.’ So I was ready. Only it does seem too good to be true.’’ 

“ Here’s the glove and the rose you threw me,” I said, showing 
them inside my coat. 

“ Here’s the music you played to me,” she answered, touching 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CATHEDRAL 89 

her heart; and I would have given a year of my life to kiss her. 
“ Oh, tell me, is Miss O’Donnel any relation to you, really ? ” 

“ Only a very good and clever friend,” said I, for there was 
not much time to waste in explaining things more or less irrele- 
vant. “ All this was her idea, to give me a chance of getting near 
you. And, as Cristobal’s my name too, as well as her brother’s, 
the thing has been managed without a fib. Brother Cristobal has 
leave. Friend Cristobal will spend it with the family; that is, 
they’re all going in that red car you saw yesterday — wherever 
you go. It would save a lot of anxiety if you could tell where that 
will be.” 

“ I can’t,” said Monica. “ I fancy mother’s afraid I might find 
some way of letting you know ; anyway, the Duke is always talk- 
ing about how pleasant it is not to make plans beforehand, but 
to let each day arrange itself. I don’t know how or where we’re 
to spend the time before we get to Seville; but for Holy Week 
we’re to be at the Duke’s house. I’m not afraid of anything, 
though, now you’re near; and I think I shall let myself be happy, 
in spite of the Duke, for your Spain is glorious, and I love it. I 
wish it weren’t the Duke’s Spain too ! ” 

“ He thinks it’s all his,” said I. <£ Is he bothering you much ? ” 

“ No. He’s being nice to me. You know, I refused him in Biar- 
ritz ; but mother came in while I was doing it, and told him that 
I was too young to know my own mind; that he must be patient, 
and she could almost promise I’d change it. I said I wouldn’t, 
but that made no difference. And as mother wanted to come on 
this trip, I had to come too. I have an idea they’ve made up a 
plan between them that I shall be left in peace till Seville, if I 
behave myself. If they suspect who you really are, though, it 
will be dreadful. I don’t know what will happen.” 

“ They can’t make you marry Carmona,” I said. 

“No. How could they? such things can’t be done nowadays; 
at least, I suppose they can’t; and yet, when people are strong 
and determined, and unscrupulous too, one never knows what 
they may be planning, what they may be capable of doing. Often, 


00 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


in the night, I try to think what they could do, and tell myself 
they could do nothing , unless I consented, which, of course, I 
never would. Oh, I shall be very happy and safe now. It will even 
be amusing, or it would be if I were sure the Duke couldn’t harm 
you .” 

“ He tried yesterday and failed,” said I. “If he tries again, 
he’ll fail again. But for the present, he thinks it was a false alarm, 
and probably believes I’ve stopped in Biarritz, sulking.” 

“ It was dangerous for you to come,” said Monica. 

I laughed. “ Don’t I look like the sort of fellow who can take 
care of himself — and perhaps the girl he loves, too ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” she answered. “How I love you, and how proud I 
am of you. If you should stop caring — if you should find it 
wasn’t worth while — ” 

“ We’ve too little time together to discuss impossibilities.” 

“ Ah, but you have known me such a short time. Suppose you 
should see someone else — ” and she glanced at Pilar’s pretty, 
heart-shaped face, and the velvet eyes raised in contemplation of 
a carved Madonna. 

“There’s nobody else but you in the world,” I had begun, 
when Pilar beckoned. “ They’re coming,” she said. “ You must 
be looking at this sweet little panel, Lady Monica. Cristobal, go 
instantly and stare as hard as you can at San Geronimo on the 
other side. See, that pet who is twisting his dear feet.” 

It was thus they found us ; the two girls chatting over the per- 
fection of the tombs of the constable and his wife; the soldier 
blind to the charms of his sister’s companion, and wrapped in 
reverent contemplation of a wooden masterpiece. 

“ We were so stupid to lose you,” said Pilar. “ But we thought 
you’d be sure to come back this way by and by.” 


XIV 


SOME LITTLE IDEAS OF DICK S 

W E said good-bye presently, still in the cathedral, 
all very polite and conventionally interested in 
each other’s affairs. Pilar ingenuously hoped that 
we might meet again in Madrid. The Duke said 
he hoped so too, but did not know, as they were motoring, and 
stopped each day where fancy prompted. Pilar thought this 
charming, and said that we were going to have a little trip with 
an automobile, too. An American friend had invited us. 

At that very moment the American friend was visible in the 
dim distance, standing with his back to us, gazing at an alabaster 
tomb. One would have thought he had some reason for avoiding 
us, or else escaping an introduction to the others, for he let them 
leave the cathedral before he tore himself away from his study cf 
the sleeping cardinal. When they had vanished, however, he 
came towards us with a briskness which showed that he had 
taken more interest in our movements than he appeared to do. 

“It’s gone off beautifully!” Pilar informed him. “And you 
did exactly right, Senor Waring. You see,” she said to me, “ on 
second thoughts one saw he’d better keep out of the way, for fear 
the Duke might begin to put two and two together, just as he 
was noticing that Cristobal looked rather like someone else. He 
caught a glimpse of Senor Waring’s face yesterday, in the car, 
and it will be safer for him not to see us in that car until we have 
gone on a little further. Then, he will have had time to get used 
to my brother’s face, as my brother’s. Wasn’t that a clever 
idea of mine?” 


91 


92 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

We all praised her; and praised her again when she explained 
her policy in having dropped a hint about our American motor- 
ing friend, so that she need not be suspected of having tried to 
conceal anything when the car appeared on the scene. 

“ The Duke’s auto was at the door when I came in,” said Dick. 
“ He must have seen ours.” 

“Yes. But he saw you, too, prowling round the cathedral by 
yourself. I suppose you have as much right to be motoring in 
Spain as he has, seeing the sights ? ” 

This was true. And as the grey car had now probably gone off, 
it was time that ours followed. 

Ropes was in his seat, coated and legginged once more in 
leather, and so well goggled that there was no reason why he 
should be associated in any mind with that Mr. George Smith 
who had threatened to air his wrongs in The Times. He had seen 
the other car go, so we must follow. We crossed he Arlanzon 
and I looked back regretfully at the citadel of Burgos, rising in 
the middle of the town. We had had no time to visit that castle 
in which so much history has been made. There the Cid was 
married ; there he held prisoner Alfonso of Leon ; there was Ed- 
ward the First of England married to Eleanor of Castile; and 
there Pedro the Cruel first saw the light. But if there was one 
regret more pressing than another, it was that I could not go to 
the Town Hall and pay my respects to those bones of the Cid, 
and Ximena his wife, so strangely restored to Burgos, after their 
extraordinary wanderings to far Sigmaringen. 

“ Who is this Thith you all keep talking about ? ” demanded 
Dick, as the car spun along the river bank. 

“ Heavens, don’t tell me that you’ve been brought up in ignor- 
ance of our national hero ! ” I exclaimed. “ If I’d dreamed of such 
a thing, I couldn’t have made a friend of you. Why, this was his 
town. He was married in the citadel. He held Alfonso of Leon, 
prisoner there. He — ” 

“ How do you spell him ? ” asked Dick, cautiously. 

“ C — i — d, of course.” 


93 


SOME LITTLE IDEAS OF DICK’S 

“ Great Scott! you don’t mean to say my old friend the Cid 
was the Thith all the time, and I never knew it? What a blow! 
I don’t see why C — i — d shouldn’t spell Cid, even in Spanish; 
as a Thith I can’t respect him.” 

“ Then let him go to the grave with you as the Cid,” said I. 
“ But you know, or ought to know, that ‘ C,’ and ‘ Z,’ and some- 
times ‘ D ’ are ‘ th ’ with us.” 

“I never bothered much with trying to pronounce foreign 
languages,” said Dick. “I just wrestle with the words the best I 
can in plain American. But now — I always thought it rude to 
mention it before — I understand why you Spaniards seem to 
lisp, and hiss out your last syllables like secrets. As for the place 
we’re going to next — ” 

“Valladolid?” I pronounced it as a Spaniard does, “Valya- 
doleeth.” 

“ Yes. That beats the Thith. My tongue isn’t built for it, and 
I shall call it simply Val.” 

"With murmured regrets from the Cherub that we strangers 
were turning our backs on Burgos without seeing all its treasures, 
and sighs from Pilar for the Cartuja de Miraflores, and the most 
beautiful carved tomb on earth, we turned our faces towards 
Valladolid. 

Our road cut through the arid plain that had stretched before 
us yesterday. Few trees punctuated the sad song of its monotony ; 
but always in the distance rose yellow hills like lions crouched 
asleep, lights and shadows sailing above their heads with the 
bold swoop of the Titanic birds. More than once we crossed the 
poor, single line of railway, the main thoroughfare between Paris 
and Madrid, and Dick said that Spain needed a few Americans 
to wake her up. Three trains a day indeed, and a speed of fifteen 
miles an hour! People shook their heads and told you that Spain 
was no country to motor in. Well, it was certainly no country to 
travel in by rail, unless you wanted to forget where you were 
going before you got there. He wished he were a managing direc- 
tor; or no, on second thoughts, the thing he’d prefer would be to 


94 


TIIE CAR OF DESTINY 

improve the future of the motor industry. Why, there was a for- 
tune to be picked up by some chap with a little go, and a little 
capital. Look at these roads, now; not so bad, any of them, as 
far as we had seen ; some, as good as in France ; others, only rough 
because science hadn’t been employed in making them; after 
rain they got soft and muddy, and then hardened into ridges. 
But a few thousands of dollars, well laid out, would change that. 
Then, with a good service of automobiles, see what could be done 
in the way of conveying market produce and a hundred other 
things. What was the matter with Spaniards that they didn’t fix 
up some scheme of this sort ? 

The Cherub, listening politely to Dick’s remarkable Spanish, 
and understanding perhaps half, answered mildly that it would 
be a great deal of trouble, and Spaniards didn’t like trouble. 

“ But I suppose Spaniards like getting rich, don’t they ? ” said 
Dick, who was resting, and letting Ropes drive, while he made a 
fourth in the tonneau. 

“ They are not anxious. It is better to be comfortable,” mur- 
mured the Irish-Spaniard. “ Besides, it is vulgar to be too rich, 
and makes one’s neighbours unhappy. It is a thing I would not 
do myself.” 

“ That is true,” said Pilar. “ It isn’t what you call sour grapes. 
Papa could be rich if he liked. We have copper on our land, much 
copper. Men came and told papa that if he chose to work it he 
might have one of the best copper mines in Spain.” 

“ And he wouldn't ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Not for the world,” said Colonel O’Donnel, with a flash of 
pride in his mild, brown eyes. “I do not come of that sort of 
people. I am an officer. I am not a miner.” 

“But,” pleaded Dick, bewildered by this new type of man, 
who refused to open his door and let money, tons of money, roll 
in, “ but you could sell the land and make an enormous profit. 
You could keep shares, and — ” 

“ I have no wish to sell,” replied the Cherub. 

“ Well, you might let others work the mine for you.’ : 


95 


SOME LITTLE IDEAS OF DICK’S 

“ But I prefer living over it. It’s beautiful land. I would not 
have it made ugly. My ancestors would rise from their graves and 
cry out against me.” 

“ Still, we are poor,” said Pilar. “ New brother, pray be careful 
of Cristobal’s clothes,” and she laughed merrily. “ It will be a 
long time before we can afford to buy others.” 

“ And all that copper eating its head off underground,” gasped 
Dick. 

“ We have cousins who are prouder than we about such things,’* 
said Pilar. “Two girls and their mother, who live in Seville. 
They’ve a beautiful old house with lovely grounds, but nothing 
else. How they manage not to starve, the saints know. They’ve 
sold their china and jewels — everything but their mantillas — 
to keep their carriage ; and they have to share that with two other 
families of cousins, each taking it in turn; but they have three 
doors to the carriage — a door with the family crest of one, a 
door with the crest of the second, and another with the third ; so 
nobody outside knows. A Scotch company want to buy their 
house and land for an hotel, and have offered enough money to 
make them rich for life ; but they’d rather die than give up the 
place. And although one of my cousins can paint beautifully, and 
could make a great deal by selling pretty sketches of Seville, her 
mother won’t allow it. I do think it’s carrying pride too far; but 
there are lots of people I know who are like that.” 

“ It makes me feel as if I’d came through a week’s illness just 
to hear it all,” said Dick. “ I can’t get over that copper.” 

Through village after village we sped smoothly, everyone de- 
lighted to see us except the dogs, who resented our coming, and 
made driving a difficulty, until Ropes picked up a trick which 
usually served to keep dogs and car out of danger from one an- 
other. He would throw up his arms suddenly and the dog, think- 
ing of a whip or a stone, would mechanically spring out of harm’s 
way. By that time we would have whizzed past. 

After a short run we reached Torquemada, home of the Grand 
Inquisitor; crossed the Pisuerga by a long-legged bridge stradd- 


96 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

ling across the river-bed ; had a fleeting glimpse of Venta de Ba- 
nos; came to a straight-cut canal of beryl-green water (which Dick 
gloomily pronounced a surprising evidence of energy in Spain), 
and slowed down to wonder at a village of cave dwellings, hollow- 
ed out in tiers in the hillside, above the road on our right. 

It was such a place as Crockett describes excitingly in one of 
his books of adventure. All the long, yellow flank of the hill was 
honeycombed with little, dark doorways and leering windows, 
whence wild faces looked. From hummocky chimneys rose the 
smoke of hidden fires burning in the heart of the earth; while 
down in the road a donkey or two, with their heads in yellow bags 
and their forefeet tied together with rope, tried to hop away up 
the steep hill, as if they were gigantic rabbits. 

By the waterside stood pollarded trees, big-headed and black, 
ranged along the shore like naked negro boys, big-headed, with 
shaggy lumps of wool, hesitating before a plunge. The sandy 
roads were welcome after stones, and suddenly the landscape 
began to copy Africa, with shifting yellow sand deserts, brushed 
by purple shadows of the Sahara. Far away, the mountains, 
rolling along the wide horizon, glimmered blue, rose, ochre, and 
white, like coloured marble or a Moorish mosaic. Again we flash- 
ed past a troglodyte village in a hillside; crossed a magnificent 
bridge, which even Dick approved; wound through a labyrinth 
of strange streets like the streets in a nightmare, and roads to 
match; smelt mingled perfumes of incense, burning braziers, 
cigarettes, and garlic (the true and intimate smell of country 
Spain); saw Duenas, where fair Isabel la Catolica met Ferdi- 
nand in the making of the most romantic of royal courtships ; 
spun through Cabezon : and then, as we entered Valladolid, be- 
gan bumping and buck jumping over such chasms and ruts as 
had not yet insulted our wheels in Spain. 

“Heavens! What can the City Fathers be thinking about?” 
gasped Dick, between the jolts which even the best springs could 
not disguise. On we went, through that famous old town which 
Philip the Second chose for the capital of Spain; and each street 


97 


SOME LITTLE IDEAS OF DICK’S 

was a more awful revelation than the last. The car pitched and 
rolled like a vessel in a choppy sea, shuddering to right herself 
between breakers, though Ropes drove at walking pace. “Who 
ever heard of roads being all right outside a town, and going to 
bits in it ? ” Dick went on. “ Why, in America — ” 

“ But this is Spain,” the Cherub reminded him. 

We had left Burgos at half-past ten, and it was two when we 
plunged into the town which Dick shortened to “Val.” There I 
took advantage of the part I played, and sought the hotel at 
which Carmona must lunch or perhaps put up for the night; 
but to my astonishment he was not to be found at either of the 
two possible fondas. I was hungry, for I had had no breakfast 
except a cup of coffee at the Sign of the Cid; but I would not eat 
until the mystery was solved. 

The grey car had been seen coming into town, and none had 
seen it go out; nevertheless it, with all its passengers, had van- 
ished. While the others went through a high-sounding French 
menu at the hotel first on the guide-book list, Ropes and I did 
detective work. It was he, really, who picked up the trail of the 
Lecomte, when we had walked back to the street it must have 
entered first; and even for Ropes this would have proved an 
impossible feat if our automobiles had not been the only two 
which had passed since the heavy rains. “ I’ve got the pattern of 
those non-skids printed on my brain, sir, since yesterday,” said 
he. “ What I don’t know about ’em, isn’t worth knowing.” 

So he pounced upon the thick, straight, dotted line in the mud, 
$ and, losing it often, but always picking it out again, we turned 
and wound till the trail stopped in front of a private house. Later, 
it went on; but it was evident that the car had paused. The mud 
was much trampled, and probably luggage had been taken down. 

We presumed, therefore, that those we sought were within; 
but the next thing was to find the resting-place of the Lecomte, 
lest it should disappear and leave us in the lurch, ignorant of its 
destination. Luckily for us, the worst was over. The trail led to a 
stable not far away, and as the doors stood wide open we had the 


98 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

joyous relief of seeing the car being cleansed of its rich coat of 
mud. The chauffeur was superintending, his back turned to the 
doors, and we walked quickly on lest he should spy a 
leather coat and guess that his own game was being played 
upon him. 

“Now you can rest easy, sir,” said Ropes. “That car won’t 
leave this town without my knowing ; and it’ll go hard if I aren’t 
able to tell you in the course of the next hour whether it’s due to 
start to-day or to-morrow.” 

I laughed gratefully. “Thank you, Ropes,” said I. “I shan’t 
ask how you mean to get your information. When you say you 
can do a thing, I know it’s as good as done.” 

“ It’s for me to thank you, sir — for everything,” he replied, 
flushing with pleasure. 

Then we went back to the hotel. And whether Ropes 
lunched or not I cannot say; but I did, with a good 
appetite, Dick and my adopted family lingering at the table to 
hear my news. 

In three-quarters of an hour Sherlock Holmes kept his word 
by sending in a short note, addressed (as I had suggested) to 
Waring. “Honoured Sir,” it ran, “Lecomte remains night. 
Master and friends stopping with his relatives. Will let you know 
time of start in morning, and have our car ready — Respectfully, 
P. Ropes.” 

Some servant of the house or stable-boy had doubtless earned 
a few pesetas. Just how the trick had been done, was of little 
importance, for it was done. With a light heart in my breast, 
and Cristobal O’Donnel y Alvarez’ uniform still unsuitably 
adorning my back, I went with the others to do some sightseeing, 
and look for Monica. 

We wandered rather aimlessly through the streets, stopping 
before any building which caught our interest; staring up at the 
windows behind which Cervantes wrote part of “ Don Quixote ” 
when he had come back from slavery; admiring the graceful 
mirador of that comer house where Philip the Second was born ; 


SOME LITTLE IDEAS OF DICK’S 99 

(“ Much too good for him, since the world would have been better 
if he hadn’t been bom at all,” said Dick, who has Dutch ances- 
tors and a long memory;) trying to identify the place where Gil 
Bias studied medicine with Doctor Sangrado; wandering into 
two or three churches, but wasting no time on the cathedral spoilt 
by Churriguera. 

“ As a Spaniard, what’s your opinion of the Inquisition ? ” 
Dick suddenly asked the Cherub, as if he were inquiring the 
time of day. We had stopped for a moment in the Plaza Mayor 
where Philip had watched the heretics burning in their yellow, 
flame-painted shirts, in the first great auto-da-fe which he organ- 
ized. 

As another Spaniard, I know that this is the one question of 
all others, perhaps, which it is not wise to put to a Spaniard, even 
in this comfortable twentieth century. But Dick either did not 
know, or wished it to appear that he did not know ; and I watched 
the effect of the words. But the Cherub was equal to the occasion 
— and his cherubicness. 

He glanced round instinctively, as a man might a few centuries 
ago, to make ure that nobody overheard ; then smiling slowly, 
he replied, “ I am no judge, senor; I am half -Irish man.” 

Pilar had looked disturbed, but she gave a little sigh at this, 
saying, “ Come on and see the museum.” 

Nowhere in Spain can there be a more beautiful thing than 
that fa£ade, well named Plateresque because of its resemblance 
to the workmanship of silversmiths; and inside the museum we 
found a collection of carved wooden figures marvellous enough, 
as Dick said, to “ beat the world.” There were crucifixions, paint- 
ed saints, and weeping virgins by Hernandez and Berruguete, 
faultlessly modelled, so vivid and beautiful as to be well-nigh 
startling ; and I hoped that Monica might come while we lingered. 
But she did not, nor did we see her in the Colegio de San Gre- 
gorio. There, in the lovely inner court, however, I found a 
little grey glove on the marble pavement, and so like a 
certain other glove did it look that I annexed it, to compare 


100 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

with that other which lived in my breast-pocket with its friend 
the rose. 

The pair matched in size, colour, and dainty shape. Even the 
fragrance of orris hung about it, and I knew this second glove 
had not been dropped by accident. Monica had been here, and 
she had left a message for me to read if I followed. 


XV 


HOW THE DUKE CHANGED 


L ECOMTE getting ready, sir, ” were Hopes’ first words 
to me next morning; “and I’ve brought our car 
to the door.” 

He had other news, too. An automobile had come in 
last night from Madrid, a sixty horse-power Merlin, and the 
chauffeur had reported snow half a metre deep on the moun- 
tains. The Merlin had stuck, he said, and had to be pulled out 
with oxen. Supposing the Duke intended going to Madrid in- 
stead of turning off by way of Salamanca, he — and incidentally 
we — seemed likely to come in for an adventure. 

We had all taken coffee and rolls in our rooms, as nobody 
dreams of going downstairs for breakfast in a Spanish hotel; 
and soon after eight we were jolting out of “ Val ” through streets 
as execrably paved as those by which we entered. We had kept 
Ropes waiting after his announcement only long enough to strap 
our luggage on the roof ; and as the other car had luggage and 
passengers also to pick up, we were just in time to see it leaving 
the house of the Duke’s relations with everyone on board. 

As the Lecomte took the road to the south on leaving town, it 
gave us an assurance that it would not make for Salamanca; 
but there was still doubt as to its movements. It could go to 
Madrid direct over the snow heights of the Sierra Guadarrama, 
or it could pay a visit to the Escorial. It might even halt there 
for the night; and as there were so many alternatives, we were 
anxious to keep our leader continually in view. 

The wind was bitter cold, and Pilar shivered in her cloak, 

101 


102 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

which was not made for motoring. When Dick saw this, before 
I could speak he had his own fur-lined coat off, insisting that 
she should put it on. “I can take Casa Triana’s,” said he, 
“since he’s still posing as a soldier of Spain.” And a glance 
warned me not to blunder by asking why, in the name of common 
sense, she shouldn’t have mine which I wasn’t using, instead of 
his, which was on his back. He wanted her to wear his coat, and 
hang common sense! 

After an instant’s stupid bewilderment I saw this, and could 
hardly help chuckling. How many days had he known her? 
Two and a bit. At Biarritz he had given me sound advice on my 
affairs; couldn’t understand this fall-in-love-at-sight business; 
thought a girl wasn’t worth a red cent till she was twenty-two 
couldn’t see himself being sentimental in any circumstances; 
was going to wait to make his choice till he went back to America; 
believed a man owed it to his own country to put his country- 
women first; and anyhow couldn’t stand a girl who wasn’t able 
to converse rationally. Yet Pilar, if she were to talk with him in 
his own tongue, must perforce limit her scintillations to “ Varry 
nice, lo-vely, all raight ” ; while, if he wrestled with hers, he could 
scarcely go beyond phrase-book limits. 

The language of the eyes remained; but that had no place in 
the realm of common sense. My overcoat was singularly un- 
becoming to Dick; but he beamed with happiness in it, as he 
regarded Pilar cosily folded in his; and looking on the picture, 
certain things occurred to me which I might say to Dick when I 
got him alone. But after all, I thought I would keep them to 
laugh over myself. 

On this morning of biting wind and brilliant sun, there was 
still more dazzle of snow to illumine the mountain tops; and 
though the road was dull, the beauty of the atmospheric effects 
was worth coming to Spain to see. The road we travelled and 
the near meadows seemed, as we went speeding on, the only 
solid ground in sight; as if we had landed on an island 
floating at the rate of thirty miles an hour, through a vast 


103 


HOW THE DUKE CHANGED 

sea of translucent tints that changed with the light, as an 
opal changes. 

Forests of strangely bunchy “ umbrella” pines were blots of 
dark green ink splashed against the sky; and scarcely five minutes 
passed but we saw the finger of an old watch-tower pointing 
cloudward from a hill. Sometimes our road, dividing endless 
cornfields, stretched before us long and straight for miles ahead, 
over switchback after switchback, as if the hills ran after each 
other but never succeeded in catching up. Then, when we had 
grown used to such an outlook, the road would twist so suddenly 
that it seemed to spring up in our faces. It would turn upon it- 
self and writhe like a wounded cobra, before it was able to crawl 
on again. 

Ours was a silent, uninhabited world, without a house visible 
anywhere, save here and there some stony ruin — a landmark 
of the Peninsular War. One could but think that gnomes stole 
out at night from holes under the hills, to till the land for absentee 
owners; for the illimitable fields were cultivated down to the 
last inch. We shared a queer impression that we had strayed 
into a country which no human eye had seen for centuries; but 
when we crossed the broad Douro running to the Bay of Biscay 
and Oporto, and steered the car jerkily through the ragged 
village of Mojales, at an abrupt turn of the road we were in a 
different world — a desert of stones. 

Prehistoric giants had played with dolmens and cj^clopean 
boulders, and left their toys scattered in confusion. Stonehenge 
might have been copied from one of their strange structures ; and 
they had given later races a rough idea of forts and cities. Giant 
children had fashioned stone elephants, heads of warriors, dogs 
sitting on their haunches, granite drinking cups, and misshapen 
baskets, all of astonishing size. Or was it water, slow as the mills 
of the gods, and as sure, which had wrought all these fantastic 
designs, and piled these tremendous blocks one upon another ? 

A high stone bridge spanned a rocky ravine carved by that 
slow power in a few leisure millions of years; and there, sheltered 


104 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

from the wind, would have been an ideal place for motorists 
to picnic. But the Duke did not picnic, therefore we must not. 
Following hard upon his heels we went on, up and up into the 
mountain world, still in the playground of vanished giants, 
winding along a road as wild as the way to Montenegro. Rising 
at regular intervals before us, on either side stood tall stone 
columns, sentinel-like, placed in pairs to guide wayfarers through 
white drifts in time of winter storms. The country was wooded, 
and began to have the air of a private park, though the heights 
were close above us now, and our road ascended steadily. From 
the scenery of Montenegro we came plump into the Black 
Forest; and Baden-Baden might have lain in the valley below 
these pointed mountains clothed in mourning pines. 

Squish ! The brown slush of melted snow gushed out in foun- 
tains as our fat tyres ploughed through, and on either hand it 
lay unbroken in virgin purity beneath the pines. Half a mile 
higher, and even the traffic of heavy ox-carts and the sun’s 
fierce fire had had no power to break the marble pavement. 
It was shattered and chipped, and carved into deep ruts by 
wooden wheels; but there were no muddy veins of brown. Ten 
minutes more, and our engine began to labour. Then, before there 
was time to count the moments, we were in snow to our axles. 

The motor’s heart beat hard, but with a sturdy, dependable 
noise which comforted Pilar, who was half laughing, half 
frightened, at this her first adventure. At any instant now we 
might come upon the Lecomte held in the snow-trap which 
threatened to catch us. 

Ropes kept the car in the wide ruts made by ox-carts, but even 
with his good driving we swayed to right and left, leaving the 
rough track and ploughing into drifts dangerously near the 
precipice edge, or skidding as if we skated on polished ice, failing 
to grip the frozen surface. 

Now was the time to relieve the willing engine. Dick and I 
sprang out, and Colonel O’Donnel followed, though we would 
have persuaded him to keep his place. Only Pilar was left in the 


105 


HOW THE DUKE CHANGED 

car, with Ropes driving, while we three men, knee deep in snow, 
set our shoulders to help the Gloria as she made the supreme 
effort. Pushing, and slipping at every step, our blood (which had 
run sluggishly with cold) racing through our veins, we were 
putting on a great spurt of united force, when gallantly rounding 
a bend we all but rammed the back of Carmona’s car. 

There it was, stuck in a drift like a frozen wave; and there 
was Carmona himself up to his knees in diamond dust, gloomily 
superintending his chauffeur who packed snow into the radiator 
to cool the overheated motor. 

All the extra power of the Lecomte gave no advantage over 
the Gloria here. Fate had set the stage for us, and we must obey 
the cue. No ingenuity of Pilar’s could hide us in the wings any 
longer, and we must play our parts as Destiny prompted. 

Only one thing was clear. Carmona could have had no idea 
until now that the O’Donnels (with that young soldier so like 
the Forbidden Man) were travelling in the red car whence he had 
already plucked a suspected passenger. The coincidence would 
seem strange to him; and if he were sure enough of his ground 
to risk another error, he would probably denounce me to the 
police in the next big town. Disguising my outcast self as an 
officer in a Spanish regiment would not be a point in my favour; 
but — he could do nothing now. Monica was here, and the 
moment was mine. 

There was a savage joy in the situation, bom of exaltation, of 
the high altitude, and of uncertainty as to what might come next. 

“Shall you keep out of the way?” asked Dick; for we were 
still screened from Carmona’s sight by our own car, which Ropes 
had stopped with a grinding of the brake; and Pilar’s face was 
veiled. 

“Not I. I’m going to have some fun,” I answered. “It must 
come sooner or later, better sooner, or what’s the good of playing 
Cristobal O’Donnel ? ” 

With that, I appeared from behind the car, and the others 
were following, while Pilar leaned out in anxious expectancy. 


106 ^ THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“How do you do?” said I, in Andaluz as lazy as the other 
Cristobal could have used. I took off my cap to the ladies, and 
so did Dick and the Cherub, exposing heated foreheads, damp 
from honest toil. “ Sorry to find you in such a difficulty. But we 11 
soon get you out of that, won’t we, Senor Waring ? Here are three 
of us with stout shoulders and willing hearts. ” 

“ Four, counting my chauffeur, ” said Dick in English, playing 
up to my lead, since there was no stopping me now. “We’re 
delighted to do anything we can. ” 

Carmona glared as an animal glares when it is at bay; only, 
an animal can attack his enemies, and he could not attack us; 
for he was not sure whether we were enemies or no, and whether 
he would not be making a fool of himself if he let us know what 
passed in his brain. 

It was evident that he thought very hard for a moment, and 
was of two minds as to what he had better do. But suddenly the 
baited look vanished from his face, as a shadow is chased away 
by the sun, and I guessed that a course of action had 
occurred to him with which he was delighted. This seemed 
ominous for me, and I would have given something to read his 
thoughts. 

He answered our “ How do you do ? ” with great cordiality — 
for him; said that he had been taken by surprise, at first, as he 
had no idea the motoring tour of which Senorita Pilar spoke 
would begin so soon, or bring us upon his track. It was a good 
thing for him, however, that we were here, and not only was he 
pleased to see us for our own sakes, but would be glad to accept 
our kind offer. 

Meanwhile Pilar had pushed up her veil, and she and Monica 
were exchanging greetings. As for Lady Vale- A von, her veil was 
up, too, and her lorgnettes at her eyes. I did not doubt that she 
and the Duke had compared impressions concerning our family 
party, after the episode at Burgos, impressions startlingly con- 
firmed now, and Carmona’s cordiality in such circumstances 
must have puzzled her. As to the Duchess, her large face was 


IIOW THE DUKE CHANGED 


107 


hidden behind a thick screen of grey tissue, and I could judge 
nothing of her feelings. 

When Monica heard the proposal for propelling the grey car 
through the drifts, she had the door open in an instant, and 
would have been out in the deep snow, if we had not stopped 
her. 

“ You must all stay where you are, ” said Carmona hurriedly, 
fearing, perhaps, that some opportunity for a word would be 
snatched in spite of him, if I were really Casa Triana. “The 
weight of three women makes no difference whatever; isn’t that 
true, senor?” and he turned to Dick, who, according to our 
story, was the owner of the red automobile as well as the host 
of the party. 

Of course Dick agreed, and so did we all, that the ladies were 
not on any account to get out. The Duke’s chauffeur jumped 
into his place again, and, with a twist of the starting handle, 
the tired motor quivered to its iron entrails. There was a sudden 
awaking of carburetor, pistons, sparking-plugs, valves, trembler, 
each part which had been resting after the long pull, striving 
to obey its master. With a sighing scream of the gearing, the car 
stumbled forward and up, our united force pressed into service. 
Staggering, plunging, pushing, we gave all the help we could, and 
for a few minutes it seemed that with our aid the motor would 
claw its way to the highest point. 

Our hearts drummed in our breasts, and sent the hot blood 
jumping to our heads as if in sympathy with the mighty struggle 
of the engine. But the Lecomte’s forty horses, and the strength 
and goodwill of five men — counting Carmona, who did as little 
work as he could — were not enough. The wheels sank to the 
axles, whizzing round in the snow without propelling the car; 
with the motor unable to do its part, we men alone could not do 
all. The automobile would not budge for all our pushing; and, 
seeing that labour was lost, we stopped to breathe and raise our 
eyebrows questioningly at one another. Carmona, alarmed at 
finding that his chestnuts could not be pulled out of the fire by 


108 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

any cat’s-paws at his service, wondered audibly what he ought 
to do. 

“Someone who came to Valladolid last night was hauled 
through the drifts by oxen, ” said I. And even as I spoke, like a 
ram caught in the bushes ready for the sacrifice, I spied in the 
white distance the black silhouette of an enormous ox. 

He was not alone, for a more penetrating glance showed that 
he had a yoke-fellow as big and black as himself ; and guided by 
a red-sashed boy in scarf and shawl they advanced towards us 
slowly but so surely that I suspected something more than a 
coincidence. The great lumbering animals were like blobs of 
ink against the snow, and the lithe figure of the boy made a fine 
spot of colour as he walked before his beasts, his stick to their 
noses as if it were a magnet which they, anchored head to head 
with a beam of wood, were compelled to follow. 

It flashed into my mind that this youth and his oxen were not 
wandering through mountain snow-drifts for nothing. The 
wolves which howl in these same wild fastnesses on a winter 
night scent prey ; and so I thought did the boy, with the trifling 
substitute of petrol for blood. This youth had made a good haul 
(in every sense of the word) by accident yesterday; was out 
searching for other hauls to-day, and would be while the snow 
lasted. 

We hailed him. He feigned surprise, and hesitated, as if to 
enhance his value. Then, casting down long lashes as he listened 
to our proposal, pretended to consider pros and cons. It would 
be a terrible strain for his animals to drag such a great weight, 
but — oh, certainly they would be able to do it. They were docile 
and strong. Every day nearly they drew heavy loads of cut logs 
over the mountains. For twenty pesetas he would risk injuring 
his oxen, but not a real less; and they would drag the grey car 
to the top of the pass, that he could promise. 

“ What extortion ! ” protested Carmona, who is not famed for 
generosity, except when something can be made out of it. 

“ Oh, he’s too handsome to beat down ! ” pleaded Monica. 


109 


HOW THE DUKE CHANGED 

That settled it. To please her he would have given twice 
twenty pesetas for half the distance. The boy was engaged with- 
out further haggling; the animals were harnessed to the big 
Lecomte with rope which the youth “happened” to have; and 
with a thrilling cry of “A-r-r-r-i! O-lah!” he struck the two 
black backs with his goad. 

“ I can’t bear to see it ! ” Monica cried, covering her eyes, as 
the great heads were lowered to adjust the strain, and every 
muscle in the powerful, docile bodies writhed and bunched with 
the tremendous effort. Big as they were, it seemed impossible 
that two oxen could do for the car, with passengers and luggage, 
what its own engine refused to do; nevertheless the huge thing 
moved, at first with a shuddering jerk, then with a steady, if 
lumbering crawl. 

“O-lah!” shouted the boy; “thump” on the thick hide over 
the straining muscles fell the goad, and thus the car lurched 
through the deep snow, all of us following except Ropes, who 
having poured melted snow into the radiator, and let the cooling 
stream flow through the waterpipes, was bringing on the Gloria 
slowly, by her own power. She had now but two passengers, and 
not half as much luggage as the Lecomte, which perhaps ex- 
plained her prowess ; nevertheless I was proud. “ Brava, Gloria ! ” 
I should have liked to shout. 

I could now have pushed ahead, and keeping pace with 
Carmona’s car, as the oxen struggled nobly up the pass, have 
tried for a word or two with Monica. But perhaps Lady Vale- 
Avon expected such a move on the part of the troublesome young 
officer; and by way of precaution she had crowded near to the 
girl in the tonneau. A conversation worth having would have 
been hopeless at such close quarters, and I disappointed the 
chaperon by making no such attempt. 

To my surprise, Carmona walked with us, instead of forging 
on beside his own car. His friendliness puzzled me. Each look 
directed at my face was sharp as a gimlet, though his words w ere 
genial ; but the final shock came when he announced that he was 


110 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

bound for the Escorial, and asked if we would like to join his 
party. 

“ I know the palace like a book — better than I know most 
books,” said he; “and if you’ve never been, I can get you into 
places not usually shown. ” 

The Cherub thanked Heaven that he had never been; and far 
would it be from him to go to-day or any other day. He had 
beheld the Escorial from outside and had been depressed to 
the verge of tears. Often since he had consoled himself for various 
misfortunes by reflecting that, at worst, he was not enduring 
them at the Escorial. Bu he would sit in the automobile and 
compose himself to doze while his dear children and friends 
were martyred in the Monastery. 

“ You’re very good to personally conduct us, ” Dick answered 
the Duke, “ but we’ve no time for the Escorial. ” 

“ It will be worth while to make time, ” I hurried to break in, 
though Dick glared a warning which said, “ You silly ass, don’t 
you see the man’s laying a trap, and you’re falling into it ? ” 

I was ready to risk that trap, and realizing that I meant to see 
the thing through, Dick urged no further objections. 


XVI 


A SECRET OF THE KING’S 

P ILAR said that the oxen were idiotic dears to break 
their hearts for nothing, not even a percentage on the 
twenty pesetas. But four-footed beasts are tragically 
conscientious, and these farmyard martyrs accomplished 
their task without a groan, while the Gloria crept up close be- 
hind on her own power. 

I thanked the patron saint of cow creation when the straining 
brutes got to the top. The summit of the pass was crowned by a 
lion on a granite pedestal; a lion with a cold air of pride in 
his mission of marking the limit between Old Castile and 
New. For me also he marked something for which I owed 
him gratitude; my deeper advance into the heart of my own 
land. 

Close to our resting-place at the top of the pass there was a 
rude hut, and one or two wagons which had strained up from 
the other side were halting their smoking teams. Here, seated 
in the car again, as we waited to see the oxen unyoked and the 
boy paid, a girl came out from the little house with a large 
volume, in which she asked us to sign our names. The Cherub 
scrawled something; and as Dick was scribbling, Carmona 
strolled across, to see whether or no I entrusted my name to the 
book. I had meant not to do so, but now I would have changed 
my mind had not Colonel O’Donnel stopped me. “ I wrote your 
name, Cristobal,” said he, in his ambrosial voice; and the 
situation was saved. Carmona made some commonplace remark 
to account for his approach, and walked away with a self- 

111 


112 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

conscious back, as Pilar’s glance and Monica’s crossed the 
distance between the two automobiles and met mischievously. 

The grey car took the lead again, and at a turn of the road 
it seemed that the whole world lay at our feet; yet it was not even 
all of Old Castile, so vast a country is my Spain. 

Far as the eye could travel spread the fair land, green with 
the tender green of spring, yellow with patches of golden sand, 
darkly tufted with woods; struck with flying shafts of light, 
ringed in with ethereal blue. 

Nothing could steal from me this illuminated missal of 
memories, and were I to be banished to-morrow, I should have 
Spain to keep in my heart, I said, as we rushed down the steep, 
winding way that serpentined along the southern slope of the 
Guadarrama. A breakneck road it was, but nobly engineered, 
twisting back upon itself in many coils, letting us fly with the 
speed of a bird to lower levels, and it seemed that scarcely had 
we sunk over the brink of the mountain than we were at the turn 
on the right which would lead to the Escorial. 

Straight before us, rising out of the bare mountain side and 
seeming a part of it, towered and stretched a building vaster than 
any I had seen even in the limitless spaces of dreamland. Were 
it not for its cold regularity, I should have thought myself 
approaching another desert of giants who made toys of monoliths 
and obelisks ; but these appalling domes and towers could be the 
work of man alone. There was no toying here ; all was forbidding 
and gloomy; for this was the Escorial — immense, sinister, as 
if fashioned from the grim product of those iron mines which 
gave its name. 

I could imagine the fanatical satisfaction Philip’s dry mind 
had found in planning this monument to represent the gridiron 
on which Saint Lawrence was martyred. He who was to stand in 
history as the great Inquisitor, must build his monastery and 
palace in honour of a martyr! But Philip was the last man to 
have a sense of humour; and it was like him to appease an 
injured saint by giving him a church a thousand times bigger 


113 


A SECRET OF THE KING’S 

than the one destroyed on Saint Lawrence’s own day, in the 
battle of San Quentin. 

“Wouldn’t the Escorial be hideous if it were anywhere else 
but just here?” asked Pilar. 

She was right; for on the Sierra it seemed an expression of the 
Sierra; and in spite of Philip rather than because of him, it was 
splendid in the melancholy strength which made it a brother 
of mountains. 

We lunched on extremely Spanish food at a fonda opposite 
the Escorial; and when the time Came for sightseeing — a time 
for us, but not for the public — the Duke began by marshalling 
us all, except the weary Duchess and the lazy Cherub, through 
the great door guarded by Saint Lawrence. Once within, we 
saw the treasures, as a bird in flight sees the beauties of a town 
over which he swoops ; but we did see them, and once I had three 
words and one look from Monica, before it occurred to Lady 
Vale- A von to link an arm in her daughter’s, ill a sudden over- 
flow of maternal affection. 

Carmona had made a point of the “influence” which could 
open for us doors that, for others, would remain shut; and he did 
smuggle us into the Library of Manuscripts, the Queen’s 
Oratory, and the Capilla Mayor to see the royal tombs. But 
after we had stopped longer than he wished in the church, and 
the Choir, where Philip learned that Lepanto had saved Europe 
from the Turks, and listened to the sad music of Mary Stuart’s 
requiem, the Duke promised something still better, in the palace. 
“ What you shall see there, ” he said, “ is a secret. It was a secret 
of King Philip’s — so great a secret that even the writers of 
guide-books know nothing of it; while, if a tourist should have 
heard a rumour and asked a question, the attendants would say, 
‘There’s no such thing in existence.’ Only the Royal Family 
know, a few privileged people about the Court, and the guardians 
of the Escorial. As for me, I was told by someone here — some- 
one whom I myself placed in the palace. ” 

My curiosity was excited; and even Dick, who resented this 


114 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

expedition, looked interested as we arrived at the palace — the 
great gridiron’s handle. At the entrance Carmona separated 
himself from the rest of the party, saying that he must have a 
few words in private with the attendant who would show the 
rooms of Philip the Second. He walked ahead, engaged the 
brown-liveried guide in low-voiced conversation, and seemed 
to ask a question with some eagerness. 

Observing the pantomime from a distance, I fancied that, 
for some reason, Carmona was to be denied the privileges of 
which he had boasted; but, apparently, he did not intend to 
accept defeat without a struggle. He and the guide moved on, 
then stopped again to argue — this time with their backs to us ; 
but, from the action o Carmona’s elbows, I judged that he put 
his hand into his pocket. Five or six minutes later he returned, 
to announce that after some difficulty he had succeeded in getting 
his own way. We might go, unattended, into the private apart- 
ments of Philip the Second; and while we were there, other 
visitors would be kept out. “If there are any, they’ll be taken 
another round, ” said Carmona, “ and won’t be ready to come 
into the King’s rooms until we’re ready to come out. ” 

The guide led us down the narrow staircase to the outer door 
of Philip’s suite, then slipped away, shutting the door behind 
him. Lady Vale- A von and Monica (the mother still clasping 
her daughter’s arm), Pilar, Dick, Carmona, and I were now 
alone between the gloomy walls behind which the bigot and 
despot had lived his miserable life and died his miserable death. 

There was a chill in the sombre place which froze the spirit; 
yet I, for one, did not feel sad. I was conscious only of an excited 
expectancy, as if I were waiting for something to happen. 

We let our imagination set the meagre form of Philip in his 
chair, or by the desk at which he used to write ; examined the grim 
relics of his monk-like existence; and finally moved to the death- 
chamber, set like a stage-box at the theatre, beside the high altar 
of the chapel. 

So small was the room that it was filled by our little party of six; 


A SECRET OF THE KING’S 115 

yet I felt there another presence which none of us could see — a 
grey ghost agonising for his sins, through a bleak eternity. 

Monica felt it too, for she shivered, and exclaimed, “ Let us go. 
This room seems haunted with evil. I can’t breathe in it. ” 

“ But now for the secret, ” said Carmona. “ Would you guess 
at any hidden opening in these walls ? ” 

We stared critically about, and I began to test the wainscot, 
but the Duke stopped me. “You’d never find the place,” he 
said ; “ and I promised the person who told me not to give away 
the secret; but that doesn’t prevent me from showing you what’s 
behind the door. ” 

He moved close to the wall, stood for an instant, then stepped 
back, as we heard a slight clicking sound, like the snap of a 
spring on an old box-lid. At the same time a part of the wains- 
coting rolled away, leaving a narrow aperture. 

It was dark on the other side, but Carmona took a gold match- 
box from his pocket and struck a bunch of little wax fosforos. 

“Philip had this cell made for a place of penance and self- 
torture, ” he said, “ and it’s just as it used to be during his life- 
time, before he was too ill to go in any more. His twisted wire 
scourge is there, with his blood on it, his horsehair shirt, and a 
girdle bristling with small, sharp spikes. Will you have a look, 
Lady Vale-Avon? I can’t go with you, for the cell isn’t big 
enough for two, but I’ll hold the matches at the door. ” 

Lady Vale-Avon is of the type of woman who enjoys seeing 
such things as these; and though she would not have tortured 
herself had she lived in feudal days, I am sure she would have 
dined calmly over an underground dungeon where an enemy — 
an inconvenient wretch like me, for instance — suffered the 
pangs of starvation. 

She squeezed into the cell, descending a couple of steps, 
remained for two or three minutes, and caihe out, pronouncing 
it extremely interesting. 

“Now, Lady Monica, it’s your turn,” said Carmona; but 
Monica drew back. “I hate seeing torture-things, ” said she. 


116 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“and blood, even wicked old blood like Philip’s, which I used 
to think, when I read about him in history, I’d love to shed. 
No, I won’t go in, thank you. ” 

Pilar also refused, for if she went she would certainly have a 
nightmare and dream she was walled up; thus there remained 
only the three men to inspect the hidden horrors. 

Carmona held his match-box to me, saying that when we had 
seen the place he would look in to refresh his recollections. 
But Dick calmly helped himself to several fosforos and took first 
turn, probably suspecting something in the way of an oubliette, 
especially prepared for me. 

He reappeared presently, however, his suspicions allayed. 
“Beastly hole,” he remarked; “almost bad enough for Philip, 
though he did grill some of my best ancestors. ” 

I took a couple of matches, lighted them on the Duke’s box; 
then, bending my head low, and pushing in one shoulder at a 
time, I squirmed through the aperture. In so doing, however, I 
contrived to trip over Carmona’s foot, which must have been 
thrust forward, staggered against the opposite wall of the 
narrow cell, and lost both my lighted vestas. Carmona exclaimed, 
I stumbled, and almost simultaneously the door slid into place 
with a sharp click. 

There was not space to fall at length. I merely lost my balance, 
and saved my head from a bump by shielding it with a raised arm, 
I steadied myself in a second or two; but I was in black darkness. 
Outside I could hear a confused murmur of voices, and would 
have given something to know what Dick was saying at the 
moment. 

I was thinking that I should not like to be a prisoner in this 
hole (only large enough for the swing of Philip’s scourge) for 
many hours on end, when there came an imperative tapping. 
“Holloa!” I answered, expecting to hear Dick speak in return; 
but it was Carmona’s voice which replied. Evidently he was 
speaking with his mouth close to the secret door. 

“ I’m very sorry for this accident, ” said he distinctly. “ When 


117 


A SECRET OF THE KING’S 

you stumbled, you knocked my arm, and made me touch the 
spring. Unfortunately the door closed with such a crash, that 
the spring seems out of order, and I can’t move it. But if you’ll 
be patient a few minutes, I’ll look for an attendant who under- 
stands the thing, to bail you out of gaol. ” 

If I had been Lieutenant Cristobal O’Donnel I would have 
heard no more in the rhyming junction of those words “gaol” 
and “ bail ” than met the ear, but being the man I was — the 
man he suspected me to be — I did hear more; and I believed 
that he wished me to catch a double meaning. 

“ Does he mean to hand me over to the police now, on sus- 
picion ? ” I wondered in my black cell — “ before Monica’s 
eyes ?” But aloud I said, “Thanks; don’t be too long, or I shall 
be tempted to smash the door. ” 

“You’ll find that impossible,” answered Carmona. “Don’t 
worry if I seem to be gone an age. There’s only one man on duty 
to-day who knows the secret of this room; I asked for him when 
we came, but his comrade said he was away on leave till four 
o’clock. It must be that now, and I’ll have him here as soon as 
possible. He will be the more pleased to set you free, as he’s 
an old friend of yours. You remember little Rafael Calmenare ? ” 
I was silent, seeing, as if by the glare of lightning, the whole 
design of the trap, and seeming to see also the triumph which 
must be in Carmona’s eyes. But the pause had not lengthened 
to a second, when I heard Pilar’s voice, speaking also close to the 
door. 

“Of course you remember, Cristobal. Rafael Calmenare of 
the Duke’s ganaderia. But it’s a long time since he went away. ” 

“ After he was gored by Nero and lost his health, through the 
influence of a friend at Court I got him a place here, ” I heard 
Carmona say. Then raising his voice for my ears, he went on, 
“ Poor Rafael will be pleased to see you again. You must have 
played with him when a boy. I’m off to find him now. ” 

Silence followed these last words. I could picture the con- 
sternation of Dick and Pilar. Neither could do anything to help 


118 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

me, nor could I help myself. I could but wait in this suffocating 
black hole for the moment when a stranger should give me light, 
and exclaim, “ This is not Don Cristobal ! ” 

Almost I admired Carmona for his quick wit. After a few 
moments of rage, at sight of the suspected man of Burgos 
Cathedral on his track in the red motor-car, the thought of the 
Escorial and his old servant must have sprung into his mind. 

Had Calmenare been available at first, Carmona would have 
been spared the trouble of shutting me up in Philip the Bigot’s 
torture-chamber; but hard pressed for an excuse to keep us at 
the Escorial till his man came back, he had put me where I 
could be kept while needed. And now that he was gone in search 
of Rafael, we three loyal comrades could not discuss the situa- 
tion, because of Lady Vale- Avon’s presence. 

A brilliant stroke of Carmona’s to have me betrayed by an- 
other than himself, so that Monica might not bear him a grudge ! 
Who was this person masquerading as an officer of the Spanish 
army ? would be the first question of the police. And the answer 
need not be long in coming. The Duke had reason to congratu- 
late himself ; I had been a fool to drop like a fly into his net, and 
now that I was in, I saw no way out. 

“Oh, how I wish we could open the secret door!” I heard 
Monica exclaim. 

“ I can’t even see exactly where it is now, ” Pilar said. “ Cris- 
tobal?” 

“ Yes, ” I answered. 

“ Poor little Rafael ; a good fellow, wasn’t he ? ” 

“Very good,” I replied. To what was she working up? I 
wondered. But I was not to be made wiser. Before she had time 
to finish the hint I heard Carmona speaking. 

“ I’ve sent for Calmenare, who has returned, and will be here 
in a few minutes,” he called to me. It was like him to hurry 
back, so that by no possible means could the three suspected 
ones reach any understanding. 

The moments dragged on, and I could have lashed myself 


119 


A SECRET OF THE KING’S 

with Philip’s scourge in fury at the rashness which might 
involve the whole O’Donnel family in my disaster. Never had I 
been able to think less clearly; but perhaps it was the stifling 
atmosphere of the cell which made me feel that fingers in a 
mailed glove were clenched round my temples. 

Outside, voices buzzed; but those who spoke must have 
stood at a distance, for I could catch no words. Then, at last, 
there was a new voice in the room. Calmenare had come. 

“ How do you do, Don Rafael ? ” Pilar exclaimed, as politely 
as if she had addressed an equal. “I’m glad to see you again. 
I’ve been waiting for you impatiently. Only think, my dear 
brother Cristobal , whom you know so well , is in that dreadful 
place and can’t get out, because the Senor Duque shut him in — 
by mistake — and broke the spring. ” 

“ I do not find that it is broken, senorita, ” answered the new 
voice. 

“ I couldn’t make it work, ” Carmona said hastily. 

Click ! went the spring under skilled fingers. The door sliding 
back gave me a rush of light and air which set me blinking for a 
second or two; and there I stood at the stranger’s mercy. 

What I saw, when my suddenly contracted pupils expanded, 
was a little man in the palace livery; a pale little man with 
insignificant features, and large, steady eyes. There was abso- 
lutely no expression in his face as for one brief instant our 
glances met. Then — “God be with you, Don Cristobal,” 
said he. “ I am glad to have been even of this slight service. I 
hope, senorito, you have not suffered from lack of air ? ” 

“ Very little, ” said I. I held out my hand. He took it respect- 
fully. 

“Is it long since you saw each other?” asked Carmona, 
sallow and red by turns. 

“ About two years only, Senor Duque, ” replied his ex-servant, 
expressionless as before, and quietly respectful to all. “ I could 
not forget the date, for the Senor Colonel and the senorita, as 
well as the senorito himself, were always very good to me. ” 


120 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


The Duke was silenced. The test invented by' himself liad 
failed. Calmenare accepted me as Cristobal O’Donnel; he was 
obliged to accept me too — at least for the present. 

“ Shall we get out of this place ? ” he said to Lady Yale- Avon. 

She swept her daughter with her; but Monica had a backward 
look for me, sparkling now with malice for Carmona, radiant 
with relief for Casa Triana. 

We said good-bye to Calmenare in the Duke’s presence; and 
I would have pressed a gold piece into his hand for “opening 
my prison door,” but he would not have it. Afterwards, while 
we followed the grey car on the downhill road to Madrid, Pilar 
told the whole story with dramatic effect to the Cherub. 

“ My one hope was in Rafael, ” she said. “ I was good to him, 
you remember, when he was ill. And he and I had a great 
sympathy over Corcito, the dear grey bull. I prayed he’d never 
forgiven the Duke for that crime, and that he’d still be grateful 
to me. Well, I looked Rafael straight in the eyes when I said, 
‘My brother Cristobal is in that place, shut up by the Duke, 
who has broken the spring.’ With all my soul I willed him to 
understand, and he did. ‘If the senorita chooses to have a strange 
gentleman for her brother, he is her brother for me,’ is what he 
said to himself ; no more ! But what if he hadn't ? ” 

“ That’s where I should have come in, ” remarked Dick. 

“What would you have done?” asked Pilar, breathless. 

“ I don’t know, ” said Dick. “ I only know I should have done 
it; and that if I had, maybe Carmona wouldn’t have been feeling 
as well as he feels now. ” 


XVII 


LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 

N O longer did the Duke desire our company. He had 
played his little comedy of good-fellowship, and it was 
over, though it had not ended according to his hopes. 
The grey car did its forty-horse best to outdistance us 
on the way to Madrid, but the road — so good that perhaps we 
lost nothing in the detour to the Escorial — distributed its 
favours evenly. We kept close on the Lecomte’s flying heels 
until one of our four cylinders went to sleep, and Ropes had to 
get down and wake it up by testing the ignition. 

Some fellow-motorists would have turned to offer help, but 
the Lecomte was ever a Levite where we were concerned; and 
when we were ready to go on, the grey car was not even a speck 
in the distance. Luckily, however, there was little or no doubt 
where its occupants would put up. 

Though the Madrid house of the Carmonas had been burned 
down ten years ago (since when the Duchess had made her home 
at the old palace in Seville), there was scarcely a Continental 
paper which had not described the splendours of the Duke’s 
apartment in one of the finest modern flat-houses of Madrid. 
Naturally, he would entertain his mother and guests there, so 
that it would be difficult to slip away with them unknown to us. 

The thing I did not know was, how long he meant to stay in 
the capital ; but as he must show Seville in Holy Week, and later 
perhaps other places in the south of Spain, to Lady Vale-Avon 
and Monica before their return to Madrid for the Royal Wed- 
ding, it was almost certain that he would go on in a couple of days. 

121 


122 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


The O’Donnels recommended to us the Hotel Ingles, the best 
Spanish hotel in Madrid, as well as the most amusing, and it was 
with a heart comparatively light that I looked forward to a first 
sight of my country’s capital. How would it compare with Paris, 
with Vienna, with London ? What adventures awaited me there ? 
What was to be the next pass in this queer duel with Carmona ? 

Rut I need not have searched for comparisons. As we rushed 
into Madrid without threading through any suburbs, — since 
suburbs the city has none, — I discovered that it bore no resemb- 
lance to any other place. 

We flashed from open country to a shady park, set about with 
buvettes and beer gardens ; ran through a massive gateway, and 
were in the heart of Madrid. Electric trams whizzed confusingly 
round us, and far above the hubbub of such traffic loomed proud- 
ly a hill crowned with an enormous palace. There was no need 
to ask if it were the royal palace, for it was essentially Royal, a 
house worthy of a king. 

My father had fought to put Don Carlos there — Don Carlos, 
far away now in Venice; but with all my admiration for his brave 
son Don Jaime, my sympathies flowed loyally towards the young 
dweller on those heights. 

We swept under and round the palnce hill, as Colonel O’Don- 
nel directed. In spite of his instructions, however, Dick lost the 
way twice, plunging into wrong turnings; but the second time 
he did this it seemed that San Cristobal — whose medal now 
adorned our Gloria and shaped our destinies — must have twist- 
ed the steering-wheel. There, before the door of an official build- 
ing guarded by sentries, panted the grey car of Carmona; and 
among its passengers Carmona alone was absent. 

“That’s the Ministry of War,” said the Cherub, and with a 
quick thought I asked Dick to slow down. Taking advantage of 
her son’s late cordiality, I spoke to the Duchess. 

“ We thought we had lost you,” said I airily. “ I hope nothing’s 
wrong, that you stop here ? ” 

“ Not in the least, thank you,” coldly replied the Duchess. 


123 


LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 

But Monica spoke up bravely. “ The Duke didn’t tell us why 
he wanted to go in. He only said he wouldn’t keep us many min- 
utes. Senorita O’Donnel, shall you be in Madrid long ? ” 

“ Only a few days,” said Pilar. 44 And you ? ” 

“ We shall be here again at the time of the wedding,” Monica 
answered quickly; “so I believe the Duke and Duchess will — ” 

“ It is undecided,” Lady Vale-Avon cut in before the girl could 
make us a present of Carmona’s plans. “ We may take some ex- 
cursions. As there’s a fine road to Barcelona, we may go there 
and to Montserrat; and the Duke has said something about Bil- 
bao—” 

“But, Mother, surely we’re going to Seville for Holy Week!” 
cried Monica, 

“There’s no reason why we should arrive before Maundy 
Thursday,” replied Lady Vale-Avon, hiding annoyance. “But 
isn’t that the Duke coming out ? I hope he won’t be long. It’s 
windy here, and you have a cold coming on, my dear Duchess.” 

We were dismissed; and raising our hats again we drove on, 
Pilar waving a small, encouraging hand to Monica. “ They won’t 
do any of those things,” said the Spanish girl. 44 Something tells 
me they mean to start for Seville as soon as they can.” 

“ Something tells me so too,” said I. 44 And something tells me 
that Carmona’s errand at the Ministry of War is to find out 
whether Lieutenant Cristobal O’Donnel y Alvarez is really away 
from Burgos on leave.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” murmured the Cherub. “But 
the thought will not bring a grey hair. Cristobal is on leave; and 
he told his brother officers that he expected to go with his family 
to Seville. It was at the last minute that his plans were changed. 
No one was taken into his confidence; and it will be very negli- 
gent of San Cristobal to let him meet in Biarritz any common 
acquaintance of his and Carmona’s.” 

44 I’m putting my faith in San Cristobal,” said 1. 44 But as he has 
a good deal to attend to, the less I show myself in Madrid, where 
my adopted brother must be known, the better.” 


124 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“ He hasn’t been as often here as Pilar and I,” said the Cherub, 
‘‘so he knows few people. Still, Cristobal’s uniform should now 
be put away, and Cristobal should wear civilian clothes.” 

“He certainly will,” I answered, laughing. And Colonel 
O’Donnel gave himself up to directing Dick which way to go, as 
we were in the most crowded centre now, close to the Puerta del 
Sol. 

This big, open space, shaped like a parallelogram, walled by 
hotels, Government buildings, and shops, struck me as a Spanish 
combination of Piccadilly Circus and the Mansion House, 
thrown into one. Ten busy streets poured their traffic into the 
place; intricate lines of tramways converged there. The pave- 
ments were crowded with loungers who had the air of never do- 
ing anything but lounge, and wait for excitements. There was 
much coming and going of leisurely pedestrians, talking and 
laughing, all classes mingling together; men in silk hats on the 
way to their clubs chatting with men in capas and grey sombre- 
ros, who belonged to very different clubs; smart officers in uni- 
form shoulder to shoulder with bull-fighters whose little twisted 
pigtails of black hair appeared under their tilted hats; ragged 
but handsome beggars thinking themselves as good, if not as 
fortunate, as their brothers in broadcloth; merry boys shouting 
the evening papers, black-eyed women and men selling cheap 
but colourful jewelry, post-cards, toys, and marvellous sweets. 
It was as gay a scene as could be found in any capital, and it 
seemed to me that this absolute democracy was after all the 
true note of modem Spain. Whatever else we may be, we never 
have been, never will be a nation of snobs, we Spaniards whose 
favourite saint is the peasant Isidro. 

Steering cautiously through the throng which scarcely troubled 
itself to move before us, we took one of the main arteries leading 
out from the Puerta del Sol (where no sign of a gate was to be 
seen), and turned into the deep blue shadows of the Calle Eche- 
garay to our hotel. 

Already I had discovered that it is not the habit of Spanish 


125 


LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 

landlords to descend from the important first floor to the un- 
important ground floor and welcome their guests. They are glad 
to have you come if you choose, but they do not care if you stop 
away, for there are plenty of others ; and whether you are cousin 
to the King of England or an American millionaire, or a Spanish 
commercial traveller, very timid and just starting in business, 
you will be given the same reception, unless you put on “ proud 
airs,” when you will be shown that you had better go elsewhere. 
But with an old friend, all is different; everyone welcomed the 
Cherub and the senorita; for their sakes everyone welcomed Dick 
and me. I was vaguely introduced as a relative — no name given ; 
no name, in the flurry of greeting, asked; for Spain is not like 
France or Germany, where the first thing to do is to write down 
all particulars about yourself on a piece of paper. 

Ropes drove the car off to a garage, and we were shown to 
rooms which made us realize that we had left the provinces be- 
hind and come into the capital. 

“ Thank goodness I shall have a pillow to sleep on to-night,” 
said Dick, “instead of doing the carved-knight-on-a-marble- 
tomb act. I looked particularly at the two neat, rounded blocks 
those chaps in Burgos Cathedral had to rest their heads on, and 
the alleged pillows on my bed were an exact copy, hardness and 
all.” 

“ I like them hard,” said I. 

“That’s right! Stand up for Spanish institutions.” 

“There’s one anyhow I don’t think you’d run down,” I re- 
marked. 

“Which one?” 

“ Spanish girls.” 

We dined in great spirits that evening, in the big scarlet and 
gold restaurant; and in rich, red Marques de Riscal Dick drank 
confusion to the Duque de Carmona. The Cherub had told us 
where Carmona’s flat was situated, saying that his car would 
perhaps be kept under the same roof with his carriage and the 
state coach. 


126 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

The company was interesting to watch. Leoncavallo had as a 
guest the famous ex-bull-fighter Mazzantini; a Russian prince 
entertained several beauties of the Opera; and there were two 
or three politicians greatly in the public eye. We were hungry; 
the dinner was good; there was much to talk over; and all seemed 
to be going well. 

But about half-past ten, when Pilar had gone, and the Cherub 
was having a 44 yam ” and a cigar in the sitting-room of our suite, 
Ropes appeared, looking serious. 

“ Something bad has happened, ‘sir; and I blame myself,” said 
he. 

“ Something wrong with the car,” I asked quickly. 

44 Something out of the car, sir,” he amended. 44 The main shaft 
of the change-speed gear.” 

44 Impossible ! ” said I. 44 A car can’t go along dropping her 
gearing, as a woman drops her purse ! ” 

“No, sir. But she can, so to speak, have her pocket picked. 
After all that’s come and gone, I ought to have kept my eyes 
open.” 

44 Out with it, my good chap,” said I ; 44 don’t try to break it to 
us.” 

44 It’s the car that’s useless, sir. I found the garage all right, left 
her safe and sound, came back here, but after dinner thought 
I’d go round again to tinker a bit at the car in case of an early 
start to-morrow. When I got to the place there were three new 
fellows on duty, and they seemed astonished when they saw I 
intended to work on the Gloria. The chauffeur who looked after 
that car had been in, they said; and you can believe, sir, I pricked 
up my ears. He’d been working like a demon, said they, opening 
the gear-box and dismounting the main shaft. Then he went off 
with it over his shoulder, after telling the foreman his master 
wouldn’t believe the pinions were so worn there ought to be a 
new set, and he was going to show it to him. They were surprised, 
I can tell you, sir, when I said we’d been robbed, and that the 
thief wasn’t your chauffeur. But just then one of the old lot came 


LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 


127 


in, and bore witness that I was the right man. It did seem like a 
bad dream, but a peep at the gear-box showed me it was real 
enough. I was a fool not to give somebody warning, or pay a 
man to stay by the car.” 

“I can’t see that you had reason to be suspicious,” said I, 
“ although it’s a rascally thing, and makes me feel murderous. 
Did they describe the supposed chauffeur ? ” 

“They did sir; and I expected to recognize the description. 
But I didn’t; they’re too smart for that.” 

“ You think we know him ? ” 

“ Sure of it, sir. Nothing easier than a bit of disguise.” 

“ It might be a common motor-car thief, who wanted a main 
shaft for a Gloria car.” 

“And then again, sir, it mightn’t.” 

“ Anyhow,” said I, “ the thing to do would be to apply to the 
police, have the ruffian run to earth and arrested, no matter what 
his position. The worst of it is, though, I’m not anxious to have 
the eye of the Spanish police turned upon me, and there are those 
who count on that fact.” 

“Wouldn’t I like to smash their heads for this ! Wouldn’t I 
like to smash their car! ” growled Dick. 

“ No. That would be playing it too low down,” said I. 

Ropes coloured under his sunburnt skin, and began to search 
for non-existent dust on the leather cap in his hand. 

“ You’re right, sir, no doubt,” he said, in a meek voice. 

I was half sorry that he, or anyone, should agree with me. 
It seemed somehow as if my chauffeur were taking this mons- 
trous tiling too coolly. “ Well, the fact remains that we’re done,” 
I said, with suppressed fury. “ If the Duke of Carmona has had a 
hand in this outrage, it’s a sign that he means to get off while 
we’re held up waiting for a new shaft and pinions to arrive — 
probably all the way from Paris. He can go to-morrow — ” 

“Beg pardon, sir; he can’t, not in his own car,” said Ropes. 
“ If we can’t leave, no more can’t he.” 

“ Why, what have you done ? ” I tried to speak sternly. 


128 


TI J CAR OF DESTINY 


“Oh, next to nothing, sir. A bit of a touch on his magneto 
ignition, and a tickling of his coil, just enough to keep him in 
hospital till he’s doctored up.” 

Rope’s expression was so childlike that Dick and I burst out 
laughing. “ You demon ! ” I said. “ How did you get at the car ? ” 

“ Much the same as they did at ours, though I don’t pretend 
to be as clever as some. I said to myself, as this car of the Duke’s 
is new, and he doesn’t drive it himself, chances are he’s never 
had a motor before, and wouldn’t have a garage in Madrid, 
though he does live here part of the year and must have fine 
stables. I inquired what was the best garage besides ours, and 
strolled round, thinking the chauffeur would have gone straight to 
the Duke with his news. I found the place, and all the chaps were 
standing outside open doors, watching a couple of dogs having a 
fight. I walked in, without a word to anyone, though I’d have 
said I came from the Duke if I’d had to. There was the car; 
and before one of those blessed dogs had chewed the other’s nose 
off, I’d polished up my little job. Then I came to you, feeling a 
bit better than a few minutes before.” 

“You ought to be crushed with remorse,” said I; but I’m 
afraid I grinned; and Dick remarked that if he were King of 
England he’d give Ropes a knighthood. 

“ Heaven knows what the next move will be,” I commented, 
when the avenger had gone, not too stricken in spirit. “ It begins 
to look as though the enemy would stick at little, and we can’t 
go on giving tit for tat.” 

“ He won’t take open action against you for the present,” said 
the Cherub, “as he isn’t sure you aren’t Cristobal O’Donnel; 
and you’re warned if he tries to strike in the dark. He’s probably 
found out through the Ministry of War that Cristobal’s on leave, 
so to rid himself of your company he’s resorted to the only means 
which occurred to him.” 

“ I have to thank you that he had no surer means,” I said. 

“ It’s the fashion in Spain, if a friend wants a tiling, to tell him 
it is his,” replied Colonel O’Donnel. “You wanted me for a 


LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 


129 

father, Pilar for a sister. I said, c We are yours.’ There’s not much 
to be thankful for. I would do ten times more for your father’s 
son; and my confessor’s a sympathetic man. Besides, to tell you 
a secret of mine which even Pilar doesn’t know, though she has 
most others at her finger-end, your mother was my first love. I 
adored her! You have her eyes!” 

Whereupon I shook hands with the Cherub. 


XVIII 


THE MAN WHO LOVED PILAR 

W IEN Ropes had gone to send a telegram to 
Paris, Dick and I talked the matter over from so 
many points of view, that Colonel O’Donnel ap- 
parently went to sleep. It was only when I burst 
into vituperation against Carmona, that the excellent man 
suddenly showed signs of life. 

“ I’ve been thinking,” said he, and I found myself cheering up 
at the statement; for I had noticed that, though the Cherub often 
had the air of being silent through laziness; that from his mel- 
lifluous Andaluz he discarded all possible consonants as he would 
discard the bones of fish; yet, with his murmurings, invariably 
rolled from his tongue some jewel of good sense. 

“We have a friend near Madrid,” said he, “who has an auto- 
mobile. I know little about such things; but when I heard that 
you had a twenty-four horse-power Gloria, I thought, ‘ It is the 
same as the Conde de Roldan’s.’ It will be days before your new 
parts can come from Paris, even if you send Ropes; and there 
are few automobiles on sale here, if any. It’s a hundred chances 
to one you could get parts to fit your car in that way. But if Don 
Cipriano’s car is what I think, he will give you what you want. 
When the new parts arrive, they will be for him.” 

“Colonel O’Donnel,” said Dick, “you and your family are 
bricks ! ” 

“That’s true,” said I; “but if you could persuade your friend 
to such an act of generosity, I couldn’t accept. I — ” 

“ Oh,” said the good man, with cherubic slyness, “ he would 
130 


THE MAN WHO LOVED PILAR 


131 


give his left hand for such a chance to please us! Perhaps you 
haven’t noticed that my nifla is rather attractive; but it has not 
escaped the observation of Don Cipriano.” 

So the wind blew from that quarter ! I threw a glance at Dick, 
and saw on his face the same expression of disconcerted amour 
propre I had once seen when a bullet went whistling by his nose. 
But he said nothing about either missile ; and now it was left for 
me to justify our appreciation of the senorita. 

Ordinarily, if there is one thing which the Cherub loves, it is to 
dawdle, but now he rose without a sigh and remarked that there 
was no time to waste. He must fetch Pilar. 

“ She will have gone to bed,” I objected. 

The Cherub smiled. Pilar go to bed at half -past ten on her 
first night in Madrid after months of absence? Not she. Her 
father was willing to bet that she was at her window looking down 
upon the street, and wishing she had been born a man that she 
might be in it. “ Night is the time for amusement in Madrid,” 
said he. “ One can lie in bed till afternoon without missing any- 
thing; but at night — that is the time to be alive here! And 
though our home is in the southern country, when we are in 
Madrid my Pilar and I, we are true Madrileiios. Had she and I 
been alone, she would have made me take her to the theatre or 
circus. We should not have got home till one: and then I should 
have had to give her supper. Oh, she will be enchanted when I 
call her back to life ! ” 

With that he trotted off, and before it seemed that he could 
have explained anything, he had brought Pilar back in triumph, 
her hat on her head, dimples in her cheeks, and stars in her eyes. 
“ I’m ready ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Ready ? ” I echoed. “ For what ? ” 

“Why to drive with you all to Don Cipriano’s! What else? 
We mustn’t lose a minute, or our bad fairy will have time to work 
some other evil charm before we’ve remedied the first. Oh, I may 
be only a girl, and not of importance; but Don Cipriano thinks me 
important, and I shall have to be there to make smiles at him. 


132 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


He has a Gloria, and it is twenty-four horse-power. Father sent 
to order a carriage while I put on my hat and coat. Don Cipri- 
ano’s place is only half an hour out of Madrid, even with a ‘ si- 
mon.’ He breeds horses, and oh, such dogs ! Come along — come 
along ! ” 

“ At this time of night ? ” said Dick. “ He’ll think we’re mad ! ” 

“ It’s always early till to-morrow morning in Madrid,” laughed 
Pilar. “ Ah, how nice to have an excitement ! ” 

“ He won’t be at home,” said Dick. 

“Yes, he will. San Cristobal will keep him there.” 

Before we knew what we were doing, this small Spanish whirl- 
wind had swept us downstairs in her train, into the vehicle which 
had actually arrived, and out into the midst of a night-scene as 
lively as a fair. Many shops were open and brilliantly illuminated. 
Cafe windows blazed like diamonds ; half the population of Mad- 
rid was in the streets, and a stranger might have thought that 
something unusual had happened; but Pilar assured us it was 
“always like that.” “You can live in the street if you like, in 
Madrid,” said she, “ and I should think lots of quite charming 
people do. There are sweets and fruit when you’re hungry, and 
water and wine and fresh milk of goats when you’re thirsty, cool 
doorways or nice hot pavements to sleep on when you’re tired, 
with lettuce leaves or a cabbage for a pillow, all at a cost of a 
penny or two a day; and if you’re clever somebody passing by 
will give you that penny. So, rich or poor, with a palace or no 
home, you can be happy in Madrid.” 

“ I wonder how you’d like New York ? ” muttered Dick. 

“ That depends on the person I lived with I ” said Pilar. 

Soon we had left the gold and crimson glow of the streets, and 
were out in the blue night. Over the Puente de Toledo we passed, 
and on along a broad white road. 

Pilar had said that we would reach our destination in half an 
hour; but her enthusiasm ran faster than our horses; and it was 
nearly midnight when we stopped in front of a tall archway that 
glimmered in the dark. A clanging bell had to be pulled, and was 


THE MAN WHO LOVED PILAR 


133 


echoed by a musical baying of many dogs. “ The darlings ! ” ex- 
claimed Pilar. “ I know their voices. It’s Melampo, and Cubillon, 
and Lubina, the dearest pets of all; named after the dogs who 
went with the shepherds to see the Christ-child in His cradle — 
you remember — so they can never go mad.” 

By this time the gate was open, and a wave of beautiful grey- 
hounds surged round us, although called imperatively back by a 
man who looked like a cross between a porter and a gamekeeper. 
Then came a cordial burst of recognition between the Cherub, 
Pilar, and the servant. We drove into a courtyard, and before 
we could descend from our carriage the master of the house had 
appeared at a lighted doorway, tall, brown, ruddy, picturesque 
in Spanish riding breeches and short coat; a handsome man of 
thirty-five, perhaps, whose face lit from surprise to rapture at 
sight of Pilar. Dick and I came in for a welcome too, though I 
could see that the Conde de Roldan was not easy in his mind 
about these young men who seemed on terms of intimacy with 
his friends. 

From the courtyard we passed through a doorway into a patio y 
and from the patio into a nondescript room which could have be- 
longed to no one but a bachelor and a sportsman. There was, 
however, a mother, and the poor lady would have been torn from 
her bed to greet the welcome ones, had not the father and daugh- 
ter protested. To-morrow, if all went well, they would come again, 
and see dear Dona Rosita; but now, let her sleep. We were here 
on business. 

“ May I explain you ? ” Pilar appealed to me. “ Don Cipriano 
is safe. And I want him to be interested.” 

Poor Don Cipriano! He had visibly a bad half moment, trem- 
bling lest we had rushed out to announce my engagement to the 
adorable Pilarcita; but it was good to see the light come back to 
his eyes when he heard that I — blind worm — had fallen in love 
with another girl. Clever Pilarcita made this fact clear, so that 
Don Cipriano’s jealous heart might warm to me before he knew 
what thing was wanted. Dick became tolerable also, as a friend 


134 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

following in the train of my adventures ; and soon the poor fellow 
was ready to put not only the gearing of his motor-car, but his 
house and everything in it, at our service. 

He blessed his patron saint for bringing us to his door, and 
for permitting him to have ridden home from a distant farm in 
time to greet us ; he roundly cursed the Duke of Carmona, con- 
signing him to Purgatory for a longer period than usual; and 
when everyone of us (except Dick) was in the best of humours with 
everybody else, we paid a visit to his car. 

She might, in all but colour, have been twin-sister to mine. 
There seemed reason to hope that the pinions of this Gloria 
would fit the other Gloria, and that no time might be lost in 
making the experiment the Conde de Roldan volunteered to spin 
us into Madrid, letting our “ simon ” go back empty. If we de- 
ceived ourselves, rather than I should be delayed (said he), his 
car was mine to take where I would, and the Cherub stepped on 
my foot to check a refusal. 

There was a chauffeur in this interesting household, but he 
was several other things as well, and was a better dog-doctor than 
the vet. At that moment he was assisting at an addition to the 
family of Lubina’s daughter; but in any case, Don Cipriano, 
protested, he would have allowed no one to drive us save himself. 

We raced to Madrid in a fourth of the time we had taken in 
coming; and two hours after the moment when we had news of 
the disaster, we arrived at the garage of my injured Gloria. 

A somnolent night-porter (one of the few persons in Madrid 
who appeared to use the night for sleep) let us in; and at the 
sound of our entrance the figure of a man sprang from the cush- 
ions of my car. Pilar gave a cry, which changed to a laugh as she 
saw that it was Ropes. 

“San Cristobal failed you for a few minutes this evening, 
didn’t he ? But he’s going to make up for it now,” she said. “ And 
I’m going to see him do it, if it takes all night.” 

In vain did the Cherub try to persuade her that it would be 
well to let him escort her home, as the experiment would be a 


135 


THE MAN WHO LOVED PILAR 

long affair. Nobody seconded his efforts, and, if they had, ten 
chances against one that Pilarcita would have listened. Never, 
in all her life, said she, had she known anything like the excite- 
ments of the last few days, and it was too probable that she never 
would again. 

With this, she climbed into her old place in my Gloria’s 
tonneau, her bright eyes bewitching in the uncertain yellow light; 
and enchanted with the prospect of retaining her society, Don 
Cipriano proposed a feast. He would not listen to discussions, 
but rushed the bewildered watchman off to a neighbouring res- 
taurant, whence a waiter appeared with the speed of magic. 
Supper was ordered; chicken, salad, champagne, all that could 
be found of the best ; and dulces for the senorita. 

While Ropes and I worked as if for a wager, a swarm of amus- 
ed waiters came buzzing about the garage, bringing chairs, a 
table, clattering dishes, clinking knives and forks, and silver pails 
wherein tinkled ice embedding gold-labelled bottles. 

Ropes is unrivalled as a mechanic, and I am not unhandy with 
tools, so that between us, under the inspiration of Pilar’s bright 
eyes and sayings, we had the pinions out of Don Cipriano’s car 
by the time the champagne was cold. Then, while corks were 
popping, the great experiment was tried. “ A fit ! a fit ! ” I exclaim- 
ed, and joyously we drank to the health of the two Glorias. 

Such tips as they got that night, those waiters and that watch- 
man could never have seen. No doubt they thought us mad, and 
perhaps we were; but it was partly the fault of San Cristobal. 


XIX 


A PARCEL FOR LIEUTENANT O’DONNEL 

N EVER was such a man as Don Cipriano, Conde de 
Roldan. Not content with lending me his wings that 
I might fly while he was left to crawl, he proposed to 
heap other favours upon the friend of his friends. 

He offered me an asylum at his place for my rejuvenated car, 
lest the enemy in reconnoitring should learn our secret before the 
time; and, better still, he volunteered to visit the camp of that 
enemy, and discover his plans. 

Being an acquaintance of the lady whom Carmona had jilted, 
he was no admirer of the Duke’s. Nevertheless, he was a member 
of a club which Carmona frequented when in Madrid, and he 
thought that the Duke would look in next day. Even if he should 
decide to proceed by rail, after discovering how “ two can play at 
the same game,” such a change of plan would mean delay; there- 
fore Carmona and his party would spend at least one day in 
Madrid. Don Cipriano offered to go early to the club, and not to 
leave until he had seen the Duke. The moment he had any news 
he would bring it to us. 

I accepted my new friend’s invitation to house the Gloria, as 
his place was so close to town that Ropes or I could spin her back 
at short notice; and at dawn, when merry Madrid was thinking 
of bed, my car towed out his dismantled one. Pilar and her father 
had gone home to dream their good deeds over; Dick, when he 
heard that we were to drive behind the Conde’s horses, developed 
a headache, and Ropes and I had to carry the business through 
ourselyes. 


136 


A PARCEL FOR LIEUTENANT O’DONNEL 137 

We bathed and breakfasted in the country, and drove to 
Madrid while the gay world slept. He would now, Don Cipriano 
announced, spend the day in the city, on watch-dog duty; but as 
he would have no news until afternoon, I might visit the picture 
galleries if I liked. “ They will make you feel proud of your coun- 
try,” he said; and so they would, no doubt. But I resolved to 
sacrifice them in the fear that, after all, Carmona might evade 
me if I gave him so good a chance. 

Never had I seen Dick so gloomy as when I returned to him, 
and the black dog was not chased away by my praises of Don 
Cipriano. He cheered up, however, at the prospect of sightseeing 
with the Cherub and Pilar; the Cherub martyred; Pilar joyous in 
the thought of showing off the Murillos and Velasquez which she 
adored. 

They did the Armeria and picture galleries all the morning, 
until they were drooping with fatigue; waggled back in a dilapi- 
dated cab, clamouring for their lunch and my tidings; departed 
again in the afternoon to finish what they had left undone. 

Meanwhile I had heard nothing ; and the day, spent in waiting 
for Don Cipriano or for some bit of gossip picked up by Ropes, 
was long. 

But five o’clock and Don Cipriano came together. Carmona 
had been to the club. The Conde de Roldan had not spoken to 
him, but the Duke had talked to another man, a motoring friend 
of the King’s. Perhaps, with few others, would the Duke have 
been so expansive. He had said, 44 I’m only in Madrid for the day. 
Should have been off this morning, with my mother and two 
ladies who are going to visit her in Seville, but had an accident to 
my automobile, which has made me a lot of bother. I hope to 
get away, though, sometime to-morrow.” Then he had asked 
after the health of a certain actress, and the subject had been 
definitely changed. 

This was a triumph. I heartily thanked Don Cipriano, all the 
while feeling a guilty thing ; for if I were loyal to Dick and wished 
him luck, I must be disloyal and wish defeat for my benefactor. 


138 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


We spoke of the road, which he knew, and said was not too 
bad ; and about brigands, who were making themselves talked of 
just then. “You’d better buy arms, if you haven’t them,” said 
Don Cipriano ; “ but there’s not much danger on this side Seville.” 

He had brought a road-map; and we were examining it, in the 
reading-room of the hotel, wondering whether Carmona would 
take the direct way through Manzanares, Valdepenas, and Cor- 
doba, or another which Don Cipriano considered better, though 
longer, by Talavera de la Reina, Trujillo, and Zafra, when the 
concierge came to say a messenger with a parcel wished to see 
me. 

“ It must be a mistake,” I replied. 

“He asked for el Teniente O’Donnel; and he has a packet for 
you.” 

“ Bring it in, please, and let me see how it’s addressed.” 

“ He won’t give it up, sir, without seeing you himself. Those 
were his instructions.” 

I got up impatiently and went into the hall, where a boy in the 
livery of some shop handed me a small parcel. There was no 
address upon it, and I wondered if this were not some purchase 
of Pilar’s, sent back to my care. However, I decided to open it, 
and found nothing inside except a little steel paper-knife with the 
word Toledo engraved on the black and gold handle. 

I stared at the thing stupidly for a moment, as I fumbled for a 
pourboire to give the messenger, when it occurred to me that he 
might explain the mystery. “ Did a lady buy this ?” I asked; “a 
young lady, with a tall senor also young, and another middle- 
aged ? ” 

“ A young lady ? yes, sir. But she was with only one senor, and 
two seiioras, both of an age.” 

“ You saw them ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Describe all four, and you shall have two pesetas instead of 
one.” 

“ One senora was Spanish, brunette, fat, with dead eyes in a 


A PARCEL FOR LIEUTENANT O’DONNEL 139 

large, soft face of two chins. The other was tall and foreign, 
handsome, but with an air ! I would not be her servant. The 
senor was distinguished. Dark, with a thin nose that turned down, 
like his moustache; a face of an old picture; one shoulder higher 
than the other.” 

“ But the young lady ? ” 

“ Oh, sir, the senorita was a white and gold angel, made of a 
sunbeam ! It was she who bought the knife, while the others chose 
a thing for the tall senora. She quickly gave it and the money to an 
attendant, with the address, saying it must be put into the gentle- 
man’s own hand.” 

I gave the boy five pesetas instead of two. 

A paper-knife with the word Toledo engraved upon it from 
Monica for me! No message, only that! But was it not in itself 
a message — the only one she could find a way to send ? 

I went back to Don Cipriano. “I’ve just heard,” said I, “that 
when Carmona starts, he intends to go to Toledo.” 


XX 


THE MAGIC WORD 

W HEN the others came back, and the paper-knife 
was shown, all agreed with me that it could mean 
but one thing. The best of it was that to go to 
Toledo the grey car must pass the Conde de 
Roldan’s place where my Gloria lay ; and all we need do would 
be to await the moment when the Lecomte flashed by. Then we 
might give Carmona a surprise. 

None of us doubted that he must guess the cause of his accident, 
as we guessed at ours; nevertheless, the blow he had inflicted 
was far more severe than our retaliation, and he doubtless hoped 
that, despite our revengeful scratch, he could slip out of Madrid 
leaving us hors de combat. 

Don Cipriano dined with us that night, and went with the 
others to the Teatro Espafiol, where the great Guerrero and her 
husband were acting. It was not thought well for me to appear, 
lest the Duke should be there, and say to some acquaintance, 
“ You see the O’Donnel’s. Is that the son who is in the army ? ” 
When they returned, Pilar had news. Carmona, with the Duch- 
ess, Lady Vale- Avon, and Monica had all been at the theatre in 
a box. 

“I knew that girl was beautiful,” said Pilar, “but I didn’t 
know how beautiful until to-night! With her pearly skin and 
golden hair among all the dark heads, she gleamed like a pearl 
among carbuncles, and everyone was tooking at her. You know 
how we admire fair beauties, and how we expect to adore the 
young queen when she comes ? Well, if it had been Princess Ena 

110 


THE MAGIC WORD 141 

herself, people could hardly have stared more, and the Duke was 
delighted. He wants everything that’s best for himself, and to 
have others appreciate it. He was so proud of Lady Monica be- 
tween acts, and kept bending over her as if she belonged to him. 
I don’t think he saw us ; but I was glad you weren’t there, or you 
would have been wild to fly at him.” 

“ You make me wild to do that now,” I said. 

“ Have a little patience, and you will steal her,” said Pilar. 

“ If she would only let me! But she won’t.” 

“ Who knows what she will be ready to do if they press her ? 
And after to-night, too ! She seemed half afraid of him, as if she 
began to realize more and more what he is. Oh, if you weren’t 
here I should want to do some desperate deed and snatch her 
away myself! lie likes having her admired, while she’s not yet 
his; but he has enough of the Moor in him to shut up a wife, so 
that no other man should see her beauty. And then presently he 
would tire, and be cruel.” 

“ Don’t let’s talk of it,” said I. “ It’s not going to happen.” 

Though it was so late before we slept, we were dressed at an 
unearthly hour — according to the Cherub — and driving out 
with the small luggage which accompanied us on the car, to Don 
Cipriano’s place on the Toledo road. 

Ropes had spent the night there, and the Gloria was ready. 
The luggage was got into place ; and Don Cipriano and his moth- 
er — a fairy godmother of an old lady, with a white dome of hair 
under a priceless black lace mantilla — were determined to 
provide us with food and drink as if to withstand a siege. 

There was a snow-cured ham from Trevelez, the most famed 
in Andalucia. There was delicious home-made bread, cuernos , 
molletes , and panecillos; and olives large as grapes. There was 
white, curded cheese; quince jam or came de membrillo; angels’ 
hair, made of shredded melons with honey; mazapan , smelling 
, of almonds, and shaped like figures of saints, serpents, and 
! horses; oranges from Seville and Tarifa; fat figs dried on sticks; 
and, most wonderful of all, a wineskin of the country, so old that 


142 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

the taste of the skin was gone a generation ago, and plump with 
as much good red wine as would have filled six bottles. 

“ You will need these things,” insisted the old lady, giving the 
Cherub a friendly pat on the arm, as she encircled Pilar’s waist. 
“It is different on the road between Madrid and Seville, from 
those you have travelled. You will want to lunch out of doors, in 
the sunshine, for you won’t find good things like these at any 
little venta. I know, for I have been with my son. I am a heroine, 
my friends say. We will pack everything well for you.” 

“And the wineskin you must hang on the side of the car,” said 
Dnn Cipriano, all solicitude for our welfare, poor fellow, believ- 
ing happily, as he did now, that neither Dick nor I was danger- 
ous. “There’s no cure for Spanish dust, except Spanish wine. 
Besides, you’re going through wild country where automobiles 
are seldom seen. If peasants are inclined to throw stones, the 
sight of a good skin of wine should soften them. And what true 
man would risk damaging a wineskin ? ” 

That fairy godmother, Dona Rosita, conceived a fancy for 
Dick, who flirted with her in his bad Spanish so outrageously 
that she was delighted. He made her feel young again, she said, 
and it was a shock to find that he was an American. She had not 
forgiven America for the Cuban war, which she had not under- 
stood in the least. “But you are not wicked!” she exclaimed. 
“ I thought all American men were wicked, and would do any- 
thing for money. Ay de mi ! I must again pardon Columbus for 
discovering your country, I suppose; though I have often said in 
these last years, how much better if he had left it alone. I used to 
stop in my carriage near the Cristobal Colon statue in the Prado, 
when the war was on, and laugh to watch the people throw things, 
because they were annoyed with him for the trouble he had 
brought. Yet now I see there’s something to thank him for, after 
all.” This last with a look at Dick which must have melted his 
American heart like water if she had been of the age of Pilarcita. 
But what would she have said had she known that — indirectly 
— Columbus had sent to Spain a rival for her adored Cipriano ? 


143 


THE MAGIC WORD 

Ignorance being bliss, the delightful mother and son were a 
hostess and a host almost too hospitable. 

As if the hampers stowed in the car were not enough, a tre- 
mendous breakfast on a table loaded with flowers was provided 
for us. But just as we sat down, at ten o’clock, a servant on 
duty as scout appeared, panting after a scamper across fields, 
to say that a motor had passed. Our chauffeur sent word that it 
w r as the motor; and was ready to start our car. 

This was the signal for confusion, cries of regret, wishes for 
good luck, laughter, and exclamations. Pilar and the Cherub 
were persuaded to finish their cups of thick chocolate, flavoured 
with cinnamon, while Dick and I drank our strong coffee and 
left our aguardiente. 

Off we went, in flowery Spanish speech kissing the senora’s 
feet, while she kissed our hands; Don Cipriano leaped upon a 
horse to see us off, all his dogs about him ; and ten minutes later 
our pneus were pressing the track in the white dust made by 
the Lecomte. 

We soon lost sight of gay Madrid, with its domes and spires 
clear cut against the white mountains, to run through a green 
landscape of growing com and grape, vineyards framed for our 
eyes with distant hills flaming in Spanish colours, red and gold. 
Colonel O’Donnel pointed out an isolated elevation which he 
said was the exact centre of Spain; and of course there was a 
convent on its top. Every other hill had a ruined watch-tower, 
brown against a sky of deeper, more thoughtful blue than Italy’s 
radiant turquoise. Men we met rode upright as statues on noble 
Andaluz animals, grand as war-horses in mediaeval pictures; 
but some did not scorn to turn abruptly aside at sight and sound 
of out motor, to go cantering across fields to a prudent distance. 
Carters with nervous mules held striped rugs over the creatures’ 
faces till we had passed; donkeys brayed and hesitated whether 
to sit down or run away, but ended in doing neither; yet no man 
frowned. 

Dick said that now, at last, he began to feel he was really in 


144 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Spain, because we met the right sort of Spanish faces, the only 
kind he was ready to accept as Spanish. He had been satisfied 
with the strongly characteristic qualities of everything else 
(especially the balconies, the hall-mark of domestic architecture 
in Spain) ; the rich, oily cooking ; the pillows, oh, the stony pillows ! 
the manners of the people, and the costumes of Castile. But the 
features of the people hadn’t been, till to-day, typical enough to 
please him. He had expected in the north mysterious looking 
Basques; then, something Gothic or Iberian, if not Moorish, 
with a touch of the Berber to give an extra aquiline curve to the 
nose. But not a bit of it! Noses were as blunt as in England, 
Ireland, or America, and might have been grown there. It was 
only this morning that we had flashed past a few picture-book 
Spanish features, and fierce, curled moustaches. 

“Wait till you get farther south,” murmured the Cherub, 
“you will see the handsome peasants. They put townspeople to 
shame.” 

“And mantillas — I want mantillas,” said Dick. “I’ve only 
seen one so far, except in the distance at Vitoria; I expected 
every woman to wear one. Now you, senorita, owe it to your 
country.” 

Pilar laughed. “ Fancy a mantilla in a motor-car. You haven’t 
seen me yet, senores — no, not even when I went to the play. 
When we’re at Seville, why, then you’ll be introduced to the 
Real Me. Look you, I have but one sole hat in this wide work:, 
beyond this motoring thing I bargained for at Burgos. You’ve 
no idea what a hat — such a hat as a self-respecting senorita 
can put upon the head God made — costs in this land of Spain. 
Twice — three times what it would be elsewhere, so travelled 
women say, and to have a smart one is necessary a trip at least to 
Biarritz. As for Dona Rosita, she is old-fashioned, and always 
wears the mantilla; indeed, on her wedding tour to Paris she had 
to buy her first hat in Marseilles, she says; for thirty years ago, 
you could hardly find one in Spain. Now, most of the ladies in 
Madrid wear hats, except for the bull-fight; but in dear Seville, 


THE MAGIC WORD 


145 


it's different. I shall no longer have a headache with the hatpins 
which pinch these hairs of mine. Santa Maria Purisima, you 
shall see what you shall see. ,, 

She spoke as if to me ; but she glanced at Dick, who — though 
he had still to pose as the owner of the car — was growing fond 
of the tonneau, while Ropes drove. Woe betide Don Cipriano if 
he had seen that glance! 

By and by we turned off the main road at Cetafe, and got 
caught by closed bars at a railway crossing. 

“ We shall probably be here an hour, and might as well lunch,” 
said the Cherub resignedly; but when a humble-looking 
luggage train had crept in, it was so impressed with our 
air of superior importance that, to our surprise, it backed 
out rather than obstruct our honourable path; and the gates 
were wheeled back for us to pass in front of the engine’s polite 
little nose. 

It was a spin of but fifty miles from Madrid to the olive planta- 
tions (the first I’d seen in Spain) near Toledo; but the road sur- 
face was not of velvet ; and we had often to slow down for animals 
who hated, because they did not understand, that most faithful 
and loyal of beasts, the automobile. Therefore it was close upon 
one o’clock when the noble old town rose in wild majesty before 
us on its granite, horseshoe hill, girdled by the dark gold bed of 
the Tagus. 

Madrid seen from afar off had scarcely been impressive, but 
this Rome of Spain — though we did not approach it by way of 
the w T orld-famous bridge — was grander than any picture had 
led me to believe. 

We had seen nothing of the grey car yet, not even a cloud of 
dust, but we knew it must be here, and everyone of us looked 
forward to watching the face of the Duke when he should march 
into the dining-room of the best hotel, where by this time he and 
his party were probably about to lunch. 

In a few minutes I should see Monica, perliaps be as near to 
her as at the jonda of the Escorial. That was the thought most 


146 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

absorbing; yet my spirit was on its knees before this ancient 
throne of kings. 

I could hardly believe that the sullen yellow stream pounding 
its way through the gorge, and shouldering aside huge rocks as 
if they were pebbles, was really the Tagus, enchanted river of 
my childish dreams — the river my father loved — the golden 
river I had scarcely dared hope to see. 

Not a legend of the Tagus or Toledo that I did not know, 
I reminded myself dreamily. I knew how, in the grand old days of 
the city’s glory, the Jews of Jerusalem had respectfully sent a 
deputation to the wise Jews of Toledo, asking: “Shall this man 
who says He is the Son of God be given up to the Roman law, and 
die?” And how the Jews of Toledo had hastened to return for 
answer: “By no means commit this great crime, because we 
believe from the evidence that He is indeed the long looked-for 
Redeemer.” How the caravan had made all speed back, arriving 
too late ; and how, because of their wisdom and piety, the Jews of 
Toledo had been spared by the Inquisition when all others 
burned. 

I knew how, in a time of disaster and poverty for Toledo, San 
Alonzo, a poor man, prayed heartily to the Virgin, in whose life- 
time the cathedral had been begun, imploring her help for the 
town; how she came at his call, and looking about to see what she 
could do, touched the rock, which throbbed under her fingers 
like a heart, until all its veins flowed with molten iron ; how this 
iron was drunk by the Tagus in such draughts that the water 
became the colour of old gold ; and how after that, the city grew 
rich and famous through the marvelloiis quality of its steel, 
which, the faithful believe, owes its value to the iron-impregnated 
Tagus. 

I knew how the King of the Visigoths had here become a 
Christian, and made of Toledo the ecclesiastical capital of Spain. 
I knew how the Cid had ridden to the city on Babieca, beside 
treacherous Alonzo. I knew how Philip the Second had been 
driven away by the haughtiness of the clergy, pretending greater 


THE MAGIC WORD 


147 


love for Madrid, that town built to humour a king’s caprice. I 
knew how, even as in the mountains round Granada, in every 
cave among the rocks of the wild gorge, sleeps an enchanted 
Moor in armour, on an enchanted steed, guarding hidden trea- 
sure, or waiting for the magic word which will set him free to fight 
for his banished rulers. And yet, here was I entering this ancient 
citadel mighty in history and fable, in an automobile, with a 
photographic camera! 

“ But you are a banished prince yourself,” said Pilar, when I 
spoke something of what was in my mind. “ And you’ve come out 
of your enchanted cave at the magic word. That magic word is — 
Love.” 


XXi 


THE DUCHESS’S HAND 

I IGII on the hill Colonel O’Donnel pointed out the 
Alcazar of many vicissitudes, long since turned into 
a military academy, which has made Toledo to Spain 
what Woolwich is to England. “There your father 
and I went to school,” said he. “I come every year or two, 
and wander about with my thoughts.” 

With this, he began bowing right and left to young officers who 
sauntered inside the gateway. Nearly everyone knew and seemed 
delighted to see him; indeed, who could see the excellent Cherub, 
and not be glad ? 

He himself was happy. “There go your father and I!” he 
exclaimed, picking out the two best-looking infants in a pro- 
cession of incredibly small boys proudly wearing a smart uniform. 
“ Oh, where are the girls who used to smile at us ? ” 

So we drove into the Moorish-looking stronghold, through a 
labyrinth of steeply ascending tunnels which were streets. 
They were so narrow that I would not have believed the car 
could scrape along without smashing the mud-guards, had not 
the Cherub valiantly urged us on, with assurances that it could 
be done. And always we did slide through, the sides of the 
Gloria so close to open doors and windows that we could have 
reached into dark rooms, and helped ourselves to loaves of bread, 
brass cooking vessels, coarse green pottery, jars of flowers, or 
astonished babies. 

There was no space for dwellers in these shadowed lanes to 
rush from there houses before our car, when warned by the 

148 



TIIE DUCHESS’S HAND 


149 


“choof, choof ” of the motor as we rattled over the “ agony 
stones,” that something extraordinary was coming; but mothers 
shrieked for their offspring, while young girls hailed their friends 
to the free show; and men, women, and children jostled each 
other good-naturedly in every window and door as we approach- 
ed, pouring out in our wake, though seemingly half afraid 
even then that the dragon might take to charging back upon them. 

Beautiful faces peered from behind rusty bars, with eyes to 
tempt any man to “ eat iron, ” as the saying is. Dark men with 
sun-warmed eyes, and black heads wrapped in handkerchiefs 
of scarlet silk, stared curiously at Pilar’s veil ; and when we 
emerged from the stone-and-plaster labyrinth, into a wider 
space where the hotel stands like an ancient palace, we were 
swamped by the laughing crowd which had formed into a trot- 
ting procession behind us. 

Just as the marble whiteness of the patio cooled our eyes, 
down the stairs came those with whom my thoughts had raced 
ahead; the Duchess of Carmona; Monica and her mother; 
behind them the Duke. 

Monica grew rose-red at sight of us. Her elders, not in the 
Duke’s confidence concerning the Gloria’s disabilities, appeared 
as little surprised as pleased; but Carmona’s various and visible 
emotions included extreme astonishment. I looked at him, my 
cap off for the ladies, smiling and nonchalant as if nothing had 
happened since our last meeting; and despite the self-control 
inherited from Oriental ancestors, for an instant he tried in vain 
to hide mingled rage and bewilderment. Possibly he might have 
fancied that we had come by train, had not Ropes been starting 
the car at that moment, en route for some resting-place masque- 
rading as a garage; and the “choof, choof” of my Gloria 
came in through the open doors like a defiant laugh. 

Then he must have wondered how, by all that was demoniac, 
we had contrived to track him to Toledo ! 

“This is quite a surprise, Seiior Duque!” said I, as we met 
in the patio at the foot of the stairs. 


150 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“Ye — es,” he answered, tugging at his moustache, and 
wishing us and our car on some uninhabited planet. 

“ And a great pleasure ! 99 

“ Um — er — of course , 99 he mumbled; and I dared not meet 
Monica’s laughing eyes, lest our lips should laugh as well. 

They went to lunch; but we were not many moments behind, 
and Pilar, murmuring in my ear, “Cats may look at a king, 
whether the king likes or not, ” gaily selected a table next to the 
others. She then kept up a stream of talk with Monica, exchang- 
ing impressions of Madrid. “Didn’t you love the shops?” she 
asked. “And shall you buy Toledo things to-day; scarf-pins and 
hatpins and paper-knives ; or did you buy too many yesterday ? ” 

“I think I bought just enough , ” said Monica, with a quick 
smile. “ But I shall get more here. We’re going to a metal work- 
shop, after the cathedral. ” 

But this was sheer audacity, and was punished as I feared it 
would be. 

Not wishing to pursue with too conspicuous violence, lest 
we defeat our object, we let Carmona’s party leave the dining- 
room before us. A quarter of an hour later we followed, going 
out into the strange grey streets, haunted by men and women 
who have made history. Dick (armed with a book by Leonard 
Williams, greatest of authorities on Spain) was allowed to walk 
beside Pilar, while that most unsuspecting and kindly of chap- 
erons, the Cherub, bestowed his society on me. But, according 
to his habit, he was often silent, giving me time to dream of 
Toledo’s past. 

Picturesque enough were the figures of to-day in the old 
grey capital of the Visigoths, yet they were not as real for me as 
other figures which only my mind’s eye could see. 

Here was the long, flat fa<?ade of the building legend had 
chosen as the palace of Wamba the Benefactor — the Farmer 
King. I saw the old man waking to life in the dungeon where the 
treachery of one loved and trusted had thrown him, dressed in 
the monkish garb which never again could be changed for robes 


THE DUCHESS’S HAND 151 

of state. I saw a haggard company of Jews marching into 
“Tarshish, ” scarred and bleeding from the persecutions of 
Nebuchadnezzar who had flung them from Jerusalem. I saw 
Moorish men fighting to take Toledo — the “Lookout,” “the 
Light of the World, ’’and fighting again to save it for themselves. 

There, in the towering Alcazar, had Rodrigo betrayed his 
beautiful queen, Egilona, for the still more beautiful Florinda, 
daughter of Julian, Espatorios of Spain; at least, so legend said, 
mingling the romantic music of its ballads inextricably with 
the deep organ notes of history. Below, on the cliff above the 
Tagus, in the Tower of Hercules, had Rodrigo taken the painted 
linen cloths from the enchanted casket, and seen the awful vision 
of the Moorish horde with his own figure fleeing before them, 
one day when he forgot the prophecy which warned all kings of 
Spain against entering that mysterious, locked door. 

Up this narrow street in the town, behind that barred window 
with its curious cannon-ball decorations, perhaps the incom- 
parable Dona Flor of Dumas’ “ Bandit ” had smiled and pierced 
the heart of the “ Courier of Love ” with her beauty. 

It was like awaking from a brilliant dream when the Cherub 
stopped abruptly, to point up at the vast, incongruous bulk of 
the cathedral towering over us. But there was nothing incon- 
gruous in the rich. Gothic splendour within; and my sole shock 
of disappointment came when I gave up hope of finding Monica. 

They had punished her by changing their plan of campaign, 
and I must seek her elsewhere. But I could not wrench my 
friends from this great monument of Spanish glory, merely 
because I cared more to look on Monica Vale’s face than the 
face of any saint, carved or painted by a master’s hand. 

I stayed, therefore, finding such consolation as I could in the 
jewelled gleam of rare old glass, the magnificence of bronze 
doors ; tombs of kings and heroes ; and all the wonders of gold, 
silver, pearls, and diamonds which, stored in the sacristy, do 
honour to the famous Black Virgin, the cathedral’s Queen. 

Coming out again into the town was like stepping with a 


152 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


single stride back from Europe into Africa; for nowhere can 
Moslem and Christian civilizations be more closely tangled 
than in Toledo. Moorish streets were like scimitar strokes cleft 
deep in the city; narrow chasms lined with secretive houses, 
giving here and there a glimpse of some bright, flowery patio , 
through half-open doors studded with iron bosses, and heavy 
enough to resist a siege; yet above the tiled roofs soared Christian 
spires in the translucent blue. 

No one cared for us now that we were no longer gods in a car, 
except an occasional beggar, to whom the Cherub would mur- 
mur, “God will aid you, sister!” “Pardon me, brother!” and 
then, changing his mind, drop a penny into a withered old hand, 
or a pink, childish palm. 

“ They’ll leave the shopping to the last, because Lady Monica 
told us it was to be done first, ” said Pilar sagely; so we wandered 
through the shabby aisles of Rag Fair, Pilar hoping against hope 
to unearth a treasure; because, did not a man once pick up, for 
a song, a Greco worth a fortune, and did not one always find 
something at least amusing in the Rag Fair of Madrid ? Thence 
we went on to the Moorish mosque, which the Visigoths began, 
and so to San Juan de los Reyes, which. Pilar said, I must like 
better than anything else in Toledo, because she did. With an air 
of possession she explained the votive chains of captive Chris- 
tians darkly festooning the outer walls, and I did not tell her I 
had heard the story long ago. She shuddered as she pointed to 
the crucifix which used to go with the procession of the auto - 
da-fe. “Only think how different times are now!” said she. 
“ When Philip the Second was going to be married to his bride, 
not fourteen, a great show in honour of the marriage was a 
burning of heretics, here in the Zoco — the market-place of 
Toledo! I shouldn’t have cared much to see a royal wedding 
then. I don’t even like to look at that crucifix, it gives me such 
thoughts. But see, aren’t those carved stone galleries where 
Ferdinand and Isabel used to hear mass, like two great chased 
silver goblets ? I hope the king and queen never sat there watching 


THE DUCHESS’S HAND 153 

the poor wretches bound before marching off to the Zoco to die; 
but I’m sure Isabel wouldn’t : she was so sweet, she must often 
have wished she hadn’t made that awful promise to Torquemada. 

“ You’re Catholic, yet you say that ! ” I exclaimed, as we stood 
looking at the gorgeous shields of Los Reyes Catolicos. Dick 
was near, listening with concealed eagerness for the girl’s answer, 
— and no wonder, since he was Protestant, and not the man to be 
a turncoat, even for his love. 

** Oh yes, I’m Catholic, ” said she. “ But, ” — half whispering, 
— “Spaniards, even the most ardent Catholics, didn’t really 
love the Inquisition. It was thrust on them; and — I suppose 
in those brutal old days it was a horrible excitement to see the 
burnings. It’s natural to us Latins to have excitement ; and after 
years of such dreadful ones as we had in those times, do you 
wonder the people clamour for bull-fights ? ” 

“Then you don’t think we Protestants deserve burning?” 
asked Dick, staring at the crucifix. 

“ How can you ask such a question ? ” 

“ But you — couldn’t make a real friend of one, I suppose, 
or — er — let yourself care about one much ? ” 

“ I should try and convert him — or her. ” 

“Supposing you couldn’t?” 

“Then, I’d have to like him — or her — in spite of all. And 
he — or she — would have to leave my religion alone. But I’m 
tired of solemn things; and brother Cristobal’s dying to buy 
metal-work. ” 

I don’t think that Dick knew whether he had been encouraged 
or not. And he must have remembered that the Conde de Roldan 
is the best and most eligible of Catholics. Poor Dick! Perhaps 
he was beginning to realize how much easier it is to advise 
another man to be sensible than to be sensible yourself. 

Pilar had been right in her surmises as to the workings of 
Carmona’s mind. When we came to the showroom of the 
Fabrica de Espadas, where the dusk was shot with a thousand 
gleams and glitters of strange weapons, there were those we had 


154 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

sought in vain till now. The Duchess, yellow with fatigue, was 
resting her stout person on a bench in the long, low room, Lady 
Yale- Avon beside her, looking tired and bored. But Carmona 
was at the glass-covered counter, begging Monica’s advice in 
the selection of his purchases. 

His back was towards us as we entered, and, unnoticed by 
him, we saw him hold up to the light a small sharp dagger, with 
a handle beautifully ornamented. He was indicating with his 
finger, for Monica’s benefit, the delicate tracery upon gold, when, 
warned by lack of attention and wandering glances on the part 
of his companion, he turned in our direction. Then, hastily 
laying down the dagger, he pushed it away as though resenting 
the intrusion of our eyes. 

“ After all, we went to the Cave of Hercules, ” said Monica, 
“ and to the house where the Moorish nobles were supposed to 
be murdered; so we missed you when we got to the cathedral. 
Senorita O’Donnel, do come and help me choose presents for 
some girls at home, in England. ” 

She spoke brightly, yet wistfully, as if wondering whether 
she would be allowed to go back to those girls, a girl herself, 
and able to call England home. 

Pilar crossed to her at once, and Dick and I followed. The 
good Cherub tactfully engaged the attention of the Duchess 
and Lady Yale- A von, looking so innocent that it was more than 
they could do to be rude to him. And while the Duke sulked, 
we picked out wonderful knives and forks for our luncheon- 
hampers, and thin sword-sticks of leather which imitated bamboo 
and concealed blades so flexible that they could be rolled up like 
watch-springs. 

“ Let’s all buy presents for each other, in memory of the day, ” 
suggested Dick; and began by offering Pilar a pair of splendid 
hatpins. She retaliated with sleeve-links ; so, emboldened by this 
prelude, I begged Monica to accept a brooch shaped like a shield. 
“Now I shall never lack protection,” said she, with gentle 
emphasis; and it was well for me that the Cherub was showing 


THE DUCHESS’S HAND 


155 


Lady Vale-Avon some marvellous sword passes. “Let me see,” 
the girl went on, when she had defiantly pinned the trinket into 
her lace cravat, under Carmona’s furious frown. “What shall 
I give you for luck ? Shall it be a dagger ? Where’s the one you 
were looking at, Duke ? ” 

“ I don’t know, ” he answered, so angry with me for my pre- 
sumption that he could hardly speak, though not daring to show 
his true feelings and imperil his chances. “It seems to have 
disappeared. But we must really go at once. My mother is tired, 
and we still have several things to see before I can take you back 
to the hotel to rest. ” 

Purposely, he spoke in a loud tone, and Lady Vale-Avon 
heard through the Cherub’s honeyed murmurs. She rose, and 
called Monica, who was swept away without finding the 
dagger. 

It was dinner-time when we returned to our hotel; but Car- 
mona’s party did not appear in the dining-room. We lingered on 
hoping that they would come, until it was useless to hope longer, 
and as we drank black coffee, in the patio, Colonel O’Donnel 
asked a waiter where were the people who had lunched with us. 
“ They have taken a private sitting-room, ” replied the man, 
which was a relief, as I began to be haunted by black fear that 
Carmona had flitted by night. 

By and by Pilar’s long lashes drooped, and the Cherub, 
catching her in the act of stifling a yawn, laughingly ordered her 
off to bed. “ You haven’t had enough sleep these last few nights 
to keep a cigarron alive, ” said he. Soon afterwards his own eyes 
began to look like those of a sleepy child, and he excused him- 
self with all the ceremony of Spanish leave-takings. Dick and I 
were left alone together, and were discussing what the morrow 
might bring forth, when a waiter hovered near us, bowing. 

“The Excelentisima Senora Duquesa de Carmona would 
consider it a favour if Senor Waring and Teniente O’Donnel 
would visit her in her sitting-room, ” he announced. 

Were the heavens about to fall ? My lifted eyebrows and Dick’s 


156 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


questioned each other in bewilderment. But our lips were silent 
as we followed the servant. 

The sitting-room of the “ Excelentisima Senora ” was on the 
first floor, perhaps a big bedroom hastily transformed. What 
we expected to see as the waiter opened the door I hardly know ; 
but we assuredly did not expect to see the Duchess sitting alone. 

The table where the party had dined was covered now by a 
piece of gaudy, pseudo-Moorish embroidery, and adorned with 
flowers. A few guide-books and novels were scattered about, and 
in her hand the Duchess held a paper-covered volume, as if she 
had been reading. But the expression of the dark, heavy face 
contradicted her pose. We could see that she was excited. 

“ Forgive my not rising, as I am tired, ” she said, as we came 
in. “ It is kind of you to be so prompt, and I thank you. ” Then 
she paused, and we waited. 

“ I beg you to sit down. I want the pleasure of a talk. ” 

We obeyed. And still waited. 

“I am a little embarrassed,” went on the Duchess. “You 
must be patient. What I wish to say is difficult. And yet the 
Senor Teniente, being himself Spanish, will understand. We 
are in Spain, the land of formality and rigid etiquette, among 
people of our class. That an automobile with two young un- 
married men in it (and even Colonel O’Donnel is a widower, 
not old) — that such an automobile should be closely following 
ours which contains a beautiful girl, is calculated to cause 
gossip. Everywhere we go along this route my son and I have 
acquaintances, friends; and already there has been talk, which 
flies from place to place in gossiping letters between women. 
I am sure you would not like to think that you had caused me 
this distress on account of my sweet young guest and her mother ? ” 

Never had I been more completely taken aback. She had us 
at her mercy; for how is a man to fight against a woman ? 

“We are motoring in your direction,” I said lamely. “The 
chances of the road bring us together. ” 

H “Ah! but I ask you, as a woman of my age may ask a favour 


157 


THE DUCHESS’S HAND 

of young men like you, senores, not to take those chances. If it 
is as you say — and of course I believe — that you happen to be 
motoring on our road, it would be no great hardship to delay and 
give us a longer start. Remember, it is for the sake of a young 
girl, and for an old woman’s peace of mind. Will you do this 
kindness, then, for me?” 

She had struck me dumb. I did not know how to answer her, 
and she knew it. Even Dick, with his quick Yankee wit, for once 
was unready. And indeed, the Duchess had us at a hateful 
disadvantage. 

“ We are in something of a hurry, Senora Duquesa, ” I stam- 
mered awkwardly. 

“ Then, rather than cause you loss of time, we will be off very 
early, and go as far as may be in the day. If we leave at — let 
us say seven o’clock to-morrow, it would not be too inconvenient 
for you to wait till nine ? That is all I ask; and to stay the night 
at Manzanares instead of trying to get on to some other stopping 
place. If you promise this, you are honourable men, and I know 
you will keep your word.” 

She had her lesson well, and had evidently rehearsed it with 
her son, for this lymphatic, weary-eyed woman was not one to 
know in advance the names of halting places on an automobile 
tour. It was clever of Carmona to use his mother’s plump hand 
as a cat’s-paw to pull his chestnuts from the fire ; but it was not 
brave, because he must know that we could not let it touch the 
flames. 

I thought for a moment in silence. Only boors could in so 
many words refuse such a request, put with apparent frankness 
by a woman old enough to be their mother. Yet I must not be 
trapped into promising anything that could separate me from 
Monica. 

To be near her, at her service always, was the one thing of 
supreme importance; but to throw aside my sheep’s clothing and 
declare myself a wolf would be to lose her; for the instant that 
Carmona was sure of my identity he would denounce me. I 


158 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


would be sent across the frontier while Monica remained with 
him, unprotected save by her mother, who was his loyal friend. 
This was sure to happen, even if I did not count the trouble I 
might cause Colonel O’Donnel if I were arrested while posing 
as his son. 

It seemed to me that we must agree to do what the Duchess 
asked, and, while keeping the letter of our promise, take means 
to see Monica in Seville. There, I must let her know all that had 
taken place, even if I could not communicate with her before. 
And I must implore her to come away with me lest some plot 
had been hatched meanwhile behind my back. 

“What do you think, Waring?” I said. Then, giving him a 
cue, “ I feel that we must consent, even though we may not see 
things according to the Duchess’s point of view. ” 

“Why, of course, a man can’t refuse a lady; a lady generally 
knows that, ” Dick answered, avenging our wrongs with one 
sharp dig. 

She thanked us effusively. “Then I may depend on you?” 
she asked, looking at me. 

“ You may depend upon us, ” I said. “ And pray don’t trouble 
to leave at an inconvenient time. My friend and I promise you 
two hours’ start.” 


XXII 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 

I T was late, and Monica must have gone to bed, therefore it 
was impossible to send her a message. Next morning I 
was up early, and had my coffee and roll on a little table 
in the patio , in the hope of snatching a word with her. 
But she came down as closely attended by her mother and the 
Duchess as if she had been a queen, and they her ladies-in- 
waiting. I had only a chance to say good-bye, as they were 
ready to drive off; and when I would have added a hasty ex- 
planation of our delay, the Duchess began to speak, so that 
Monica was whisked away without hearing. 

“ Wicked — old — cat 1 ” was Pilar’s exclamation when Dick 
told her the story of last night’s dilemma. But when asked what 
she would have done in our place, her invention failed; and the 
Cherub approved our course. 

The others had taken full advantage of our generosity, and 
had not left Toledo till nine. Therefore, according to our con- 
tract, we were obliged to wait until eleven, surprising Ropes by 
our procrastination. 

But as we were on the point of spinning away from the hotel, 
a goat-herd turned the corner at the head of his shaggy flock. 
The man, tanned a dark bronze with constant exposure, wore 
his rags with the air of a king marching to conquest, and rather 
than show vulgar curiosity, strode past scarcely deigning a look 
at the automobile, though it was as likely as not the first he had 
ever seen. His goats, equally unconcerned, strayed among our 
wheels without hurry, and when they chose clattered off with 

Ud 


160 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

much play of little cloven hoofs on cobblestones. A sharper 
note of contrast could hardly have been struck, Dick and I said 
to each other. A meeting between the automobile, latest product 
of man’s restless invention, made to fly across states and con- 
tinents, and the goat-herd whose knowledge of the world might 
extend ten miles beyond the place where, since his birth, he had 
carried on one of the most ancient occupations on the globe. 
So the ages seemed united, and Virgil and Theocritus brought 
suddenly face to face with Maeterlinck and Henley; and an in- 
stant later we had taken a small excursion into the middle ages 
of superstition. Pilar told us gravely that in a volume of “Dreams 
and Love Lore,” valued beyond all other books by the young 
girls of Andaluria, one read that it brought good luck to lovers 
to meet a flock of goats when starting on a journey in the 
morning. 

Thus encouraged to hope for what I dared not expect, we set 
off, again and again finding ourselves hard put to it to get the 
long chassis of the Gloria round sharp comers of narrow streets. 
More than once it could be done only by backing the car, a feat 
which was witnessed with cries of astonishment by a crowd of 
water-sellers with painted tin vessels, milkmen on donkey back, 
knife-grinders, and Murillo cherubs who were following to see us 
off. Thus attended we slid down the steep hill which twisted 
past the old fortifications of Toledo, and brought us out at last 
upon the Puente de Alcantara, that most wonderful bridge of all 
the world. 

The Tagus, grandest river in Spain, and golden as old father 
Tiber himself, plunged through his narrow gorge a hundred 
feet below the arch of stone, and on either hand stood up the 
sun-baked cliffs, Toledo seated on their summit, crowned with 
^towers, like an empress upon her throne. Far beneath, in the 
swirl of yellow water were Moorish mills, white with age, 
grinding com for their new masters. 

As we passed across the bridge at a foot-pace between strings 
of tasselled and jingling mules, little grey donkeys loaded with 


161 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 

pigskins of wine, brown jugs of olive oil, or bags of meal, and 
charming children who offered us roses for a perrilla , we had our 
last sight of the cathedral spires. The voice of a young girl, 
washing white and blue clothing in a trough of running water, 
sped us upon our journey. Her head was bound in a scarlet 
handkerchief; and smiling at us while she pounded the linen, 
she sang a strange song, half chant, with that wild Eastern lilt 
which has been handed down from the Moors to the sons and 
daughters of Spain. 

“She’s improvising a coplal ” exclaimed Pilar. “Listen; it’s 
for you, brother Cristobal.” 

So I listened, and heard that my eyes though dark as starless 
skies, could blaze as the sun with love, and that the blessing of a 
poor girl who had none to care for her, was upon the rich girl 
who held the treasure of my heart. 

“ You must blow her a kiss to pay for the song, ” Pilar said. 
“Don’t you know that? But then, you haven’t been in Spain 
long — except in your thoughts. That’s expected; just as a girl 
must politely kiss her hand to a bull-fighter if he kisses his to her; 
for if she doesn’t, she puts the evil-eye upon him; and like as 
not he’s gored the next time he goes into the arena. Oh, I love 
the coplas! And wasn’t that woman singing in good Spanish? 
Even the common people speak well here, for Valladolid and 
Toledo Spanish is the best in Spain. ” 

I looked back and kissed my hand to the girl, who would have 
been insulted had I thrown money; and lifting my eyes once 
more to the towering city, I saw a mediaeval background such as 
old masters love to give their pictures. 

The landscape was wild, and unchanged to all appearance 
from the days when the Crescent and the Cross battled for 
supremacy on those stony hills and in those savage gorges. Once 
again, I felt myself a crude anachronism, in my automobile, 
nor did the impression leave me when Toledo was hidden round 
a comer; nor when we flashed past ancient Eastern nomas , 
slowly turned by sleepy horses or indignant donkeys; nor with 


162 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


glimpses of sentinel watch-towers, or ruined castles — such 
“ castles in Spain ” as Don Pedro promised to the Black Prince’s 
soldiers — and seldom gave if they were worth giving. 

Now, our business was to hark back to the king’s highway 
between Madrid and Seville — that road on which Dick thriftily 
planned his quick service of automobiles for passengers and 
market gardeners; but to-day there was none of that excitement 
of the chase to which we were accustomed. I was depressed 
despite the good omen of the goats, and an encounter with a 
mule who had four white feet — a sign of some extraordinary 
piece of luck, according to Pilar’s Dream-Book. The gently 
undulating, olive-silvered country, with its occasional far-off 
hamlets and fine church spires did not interest me, and I was 
not as thankful as I should have been for the good road. 

At last we had left the zone of brown cities and sombre hued 
villages, and come into the zone of dazzling white habitations, 
which meant that we were nearing the southern land, loved by 
the sun. The huge, semi -fortified, high-walled farmhouses stand- 
ing in lonely spaces were white as great shells floating solitary on 
seas of waving green. The close-grouped knots of cottages huddled 
together for mutual protection might have been cut from blocks of 
marble; and their tenants were vivid creatures, burning like 
tropical flowers against the dazzling white of their rough walls. 

Never for ten minutes was the landscape the same. From olive 
plantations we rushed into a bleak country of savage hills, where 
windmills planted upon rocks beckoned with slowly moving 
arms; so down into flowery valleys with a thread of silver river 
tangled in the grasses near a long white road. And always the 
horizon was broken with tumbled mountains, purple, gold, and 
rose, swimming in a sea of light and changing colour. 

“Soon we’ll be in Cervantes’ country,” said the Cherub; 
“ and good country it is — for sport. I come myself sometimes 
with friends, after wild boar; and there are plenty of rabbits to be 
had when there’s nothing better. ” 

“ Don't speak of rabbits, ” said Dick. “ It makes me hungry 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 


163 


to think of them; and as nobody has said anything about lunch- > 
ing, and we’re having such a good run, I haven’t liked to mention 
it. Still, there’s that Andaluz ham and goodness knows how 
many other things wasting their sweetness — ” 

The Cherub shook his head. “ We mustn’t stop here. It will 
be better to wait till we come to another road-mender’s house. 
We’re sure to pass one before long. Then we’ll pull up, and the 
women will bring us water, or anything we want. ” 

“I believe what you’re really thinking of, is brigands!” 
exclaimed Pilar. 

“Well,” smiled the Cherub, “maybe something of the sort 
was in my mind ; though you need have no fear, my Pilarcita. ” 

“ As if I would — a soldier’s daughter ! ” sneered Pilarcita. 

“ I wish we would meet the Seven Men of Ecija, or El Vivillo 
himself — if they haven’t caught him yet. It would be fun. ” 

“ No fun with you among us, child, ” the Cherub said. “ The 
chivalrous bandoleros of the past exist in these days only in 
story books and ballads. Vivillo is a villainous brute, and a little 
farther south we’ll find no one on the road who’ll care to speak 
his name. They’ll call him Senor Coso. As for the Seven Men 
of Ecija, one says that they’re disbanded long ago, yet there’s 
a rumour that they still exist; and by the way, Don Ramon, for 
generations that famous band of seven brigands has had a con- 
nection — at least in old wives’ gossip — with the Dukes of 
Carmona. ” 

“ Plow’s that ? ” I inquired, interested; for though I had heard 
many things about that house, I had not heard the story at which 
Colonel O’Donnel hinted. 

“I wonder you don’t know!” said he. “Why, the tale runs 
that, more than a hundred years ago, the baby heir of the Car- 
monas was ailing. If they lost him, the title would go to another 
branch of the family; but the Duchess had died within a few days 
of his birth, and no foster-mother could be found to give the 
child health. Then the Duke caused it to be known far and near 
'that, if any woman could save his boy, she should have a pension 


164 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


for life, enough to keep her in comfort with all her family; and 
that her daughter and her daughter’s daughter should, if she 
chose to make the contract, be foster-mothers of future Dukes 
of Carmona. In answer to this proclamation came a woman of 
Ecija, the town of the brigands; a Juno of a creature. She nursed 
the ailing heir back to health, and when the child had become 
devoted to her, the secret leaked out that she was the married 
sister of the terrible priest who led the brigand band. But she 
was not sent away for that reason. Instead, the Duke used his 
influence successfully to obtain a pardon for her husband, the 
priest’s brother-in-law, when he was taken red-handed for 
robbery and murder between Carmona and Seville; and in 
gratitude for this the man promised that his sons and sons’ 
sons should be always at the disposal of the ducal house. For 
the rest, the story goes that more than once in the last century 
this promise has been exacted and fulfilled in secret. ” 

“I wouldn’t put it past the present Carmona to have a nest 
of bandits up his sleeve, ” said Dick. “ It’s a pretty black sleeve, 
if some of the things one hears are true. But here’s a road- 
mender’s cottage. What about halting, and cocking snooks at 
El Vivillo ? ” 

“ It will do very well, ” replied the Cherub. “ If worst came to 
worst, we could make a good defence from inside. ” 

“ Honestly, aren’t you pulling our legs about the brigands ? ” 
asked Dick, half-scornful and half-amused, as we slowed down. 

“ No, ” said the Cherub. “ I’m not joking, if that’s what you 
mean; for we are on the borders of the bandido country now. It 
will be years before brigandage is stamped out in Spain; and 
you must have read of the trouble there’s been lately. Not that 
I think there’s much chance of an encounter, but it’s well to be 
prepared; for if a band of men jump at you with carbines to their 
shoulders, there’s no getting out revolvers. ” 

“H’m!” muttered Dick. “I suppose you know what you’re 
talking about; but I wouldn’t mind betting that these people 
would laugh if we asked, ‘ What about brigands ? ’ ” 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 


1 65 


“ All right ; let us ask, ” said the Cherub calmly. 

By this time the car had stopped close to a tiny white box of a 
house set a few yards back from the road, with a strip of grass 
for a lawn; and an old man, evidently an ex-soldier, with a 
plump wife and a pretty daughter were coming out. We inter- 
changed various compliments; said that, with the kind per- 
mission of his honour, the road-mender, we would lunch near his 
house; were told that the house and everyone as well as every- 
thing in it, was at our worship’s disposal; and finally the Cherub 
murmured a question as to whether any bandidos had been seen 
lately. 

This way and that the old man glanced before answering. 
Then below his breath replied that, as it happened, four gentle- 
men of the profession had passed no more than three or four 
hours ago. They were out of luck, for they had been hunted by 
the civil guard ; and as they were hungry had gone over to the 
right, there, to see what could be got at the nearest farm. As for 
this place, it was safe enough, for there was nothing in it which 
even a brigand would have; and one had to be agreeable to these 
persons, if they stopped to rest or chat; it was more prudent. 

“ You see, you would have lost your money if I’d taken your 
bet, Senor Waring, ” said the Cherub. 

Never was such a lunch as that we had by the roadside. We 
all worked at spreading out the contents of the hampers, while 
the road-mender and his family bustled about, not as inferiors 
with the hope of a tip, but helping us as friends and hosts. 

When we arrived, not a soul was to be seen, save the dwellers 
in the white box. The only living things beside the trio and our- 
selves, were the larks that sprang heavenward pouring jewels 
from throbbing throats, and a few unknown birds of brilliant 
red and yellow, like drifting flower-petals. But whether these 
birds carried the news, or whether it blew over the country with 
the scented wind, certain it is that an audience collected to gaze 
upon us, as clouds boil up over a clear horizon. 

L it was not an intrusive crowd that came; neither did they 


166 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


approach offensively near, or stare with vulgar curiosity. It’s 
component members — three or four handsome young mule- 
drivers, princely in shabbiness; an elderly tiller of the soil, with 
the eyes and profile of a half -tamed hawk; an old woman and a 
young girl madonna-like in their hooded clocks, as they sat their 
patient donkeys; and a couple of shy children with the eyes of 
startled deer — hovered, paused, and ruminated, ready to take 
flight, like wild creatures of the forest, at a rude look or chaffing 
word. 

But they got no rude looks or chaffing words from us, 
though we dared not smile too invitingly, lest they misunder- 
stand, and flee from us, offended. We bowed gravely; they gravely 
bowed in return. Then, following a hurried whisper of advice from 
the tactful Cherub, we continued our meal. But presently, sand- 
wich in hand, he strolled towards the scattered group, mingled 
with it, and murmured. What he murmured, we in the car and 
round it could not hear; but the chill uncertainty on those 
dark faces brightened into sympathetic amusement. 

“He’s telling them about ourselves and the automobile,” 
chuckled Pilarcita. “ Oh, I know him ! He’s probably making up 
nonsense about the car and its workings. In another minute 
they’ll be his slaves, and friends of us all. ” 

As she whispered, the plump figure sauntered back. “ I think 
that now it’s safe to offer them a share of our food, ” said he, in 
the manner of one who imparts a delicious secret. “They are 
dying for some; but they’ll refuse unless we go about it in the 
right way, for they’re as proud as we are. ” 

Pilar was not allowed to move, because, in Spain, women are 
to be worshipped from afar, and must not mingle with strangers. 
But she handed plates of the dainties supplied by Dona Rosita, 
to Dick and me, and thus laden we wandered towards our 
audience. 

“ Offer something first to the road-mender’s family, ” suggested 
the Cherub, and we obeyed. “ Probably you are not hungry, ” 
was his preface. “Why should you be, when you have plenty 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 


1G7 


of food as good as ours, maybe better ? But here are things from 
Madrid. It may happen they are new to you. We shall be pleased 
if you taste them."’ 

Then proud, hesitating fingers hesitated no longer, but 
descended upon thin slices of ham, shredded and sweetened 
eggs, cheese, and mazapan. Nobody betrayed eagerness, but 
faces beamed, especially when the road-mender, proud of us as if 
we had been his relations, went round with our wineskin, 
cordially bidding every man put it to his lips. 

As the company ate and drank, the Cherub circulated among 
them, and soon was primed with the abbreviated life-story of 
each person, though he had apparently asked no questions. 
Somehow, it was the first impulse of the most reserved soul to 
confide in the Cherub ; and when the meal was finished, and no 
excuse remained for lingering, the wild birds, tamed by kindness, 
flew away regretfully. 

“ They’ll all have good words to speak for automobilists 
after this, ” said Pilar. 

“ Until some ruffian comes tearing along, upsetting their carts 
and breaking their illusions, ” added Dick. 

When we were ready to go on, the road-mender’s wife would 
not be content unless Pilar would have a look at the house, 
which she took, and came back delighted. “Tiny rooms, but 
clean as wax, ” she reported. “ Pictures and crucifixes and Toledo 
knives on the snow-white walls, and beautiful bright copper in 
the kitchen. I believe I could be happy to live there — with 
someone I loved. ” 

Was the image of Don Cipriano in her mind as she said this ? 
or Dick’s tanned face and whimsical grey eyes ? Or did she think 
only of an existence in the society of her father ? 

“ Beware gutters ! ” was the road-mender’s last word as we 
spun away; and we were glad of the warning; for despite careful 
driving, a few seconds of inattention might have sent us crashing 
into and over a deep trough across the road, half hidden by thick 
dust. There were many of these gutters, which might have been 


188 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

put underneath in jthe form of culverts; but, as the Cherub re- 
marked, since nobody takes the trouble to complain, in Spain, 
why should anyone bother ? 

There were broken patches, too, where somebody had begun 
to build a bridge, and then apparently forgotten all about going 
on with it; but luckily there were side tracks made by other 
pioneers, by which, with care, one could skirt the great square 
hole, and land safely on the other side. 

Thus we arrived before a walled town with a Moorish gateway; 
and, for ail the changes which had come or gone since the days 
of those who set it up, the place might have been under a spell of 
enchantment, a kind of “sleeping sickness,” for at least five 
hundred unnoticeable years. 

Our maps said that it was Ciudad Real; Colonel O’Donnel 
added that of all garrison towns it was the one which young 
officers hated worst. And while the car paused with panting 
motor for a discussion as to the way on, two dark youths by the 
roadside interested themselves in our situation. They had red 
handkerchiefs twisted round their heads, and the smarter of the 
pair wore two sombreros, one over the other — a simple 
way of carrying his Sunday hat on week-days; and they 
looked up from a meal of maize bread and onions to enter into 
conversation. 

Had our honours any doubt as to the road ? If so, and our 
worships would deign to mention the destination desired, they 
might have the happiness of helping us. 

We wanted to go to Manzanares, I replied. 

In that case, replied the owner of the two sombreros, there 
was a short cut which would be of assistance. Not only would it 
save us a bad section of road, but an hour’s time as well. We 
must not go through the town, but turn to the left round the wall, 
nor must we enter the village which we would soon see, but 
skirt that also. Presently we would come to fields planted with 
olives, and our way would lead through these. We must not be 
disheartened if it appeared wild and rough. We should be able 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 169 

to pass, and in the end would be glad that we had availed our- 
selves of such advice. 

Taking this for granted, I gave each of the lads a peseta, which 
they accepted more as their just due than as a favour. To avoid 
the town, it seemed that we must steer into chaos, void and form- 
less ; but there were only a few hundred yards of desert. Beyond, 
we found ourselves in a good road, which led to the white village 
we had been told to expect ; and there, as we were already primed 
with information, we wasted no time in asking questions. In- 
stead, we plunged into open country, with a vista of olive trees 
in the grey-green distance. From fair, the road dwindled to 
doubtful; then to a certainty of badness. It narrowed; softened 
to a sandbank; hardened into a wilderness of rocks and stones 
scattered between deep ruts dug by the wheels of ox-carts. 
Apparently no other vehicles than these had ever weathered the 
terrors of this passage; yet we persevered; for here were the 
promised olive trees, so near, indeed, that we lurched against 
them as we rocked from side to side. We had been warned what- 
ever happened not to be discouraged, and we cheered each other 
bravely, while our heads bumped against the roof. “ We shall be 
out of this presently, ” we gasped. “ It will surely be all right 
soon. ” 

Meanwhile, however, it was a nightmare; the sort of thing 
which a delirious chauffeur might dream and rave of, in a fever; 
and instead of improving, the way grew worse. 

“Can it be possible those chaps deceived us on purpose?” 
I jerked out between chattering teeth, as the car sprang from one 
three-foot rut into another, in spite of Ropes’ coaxing. 

“ I’ll bet it’s a trick of Carmona’s, ” gasped Dick, at the risk 
of biting his tongue. “I thought that fellow in the two hats 
looked a fox.” 

“I did see them laughing when I looked round after we 
passed,” said Pilar, as jumpily as if she rode a trotting horse. 
“ But I — thought — they were pleased with the pesetas. ” 

“ I expect they’d got more than we gave, to send us the wrong 


170 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

way,” growled Dick. “We must have been dreaming not to 
think of it . 99 

“ \\ e can’t go about suspecting everyone we meet to be in 
Carmona’s pay,” said I. “We’d be mistaken as often as right, 
and then we should feel small. After all, there isn’t much harm 
done. ” 

“It’s a wonder we haven’t smashed something, sir,” sighed 
the much enduring Ropes. 

“ That’s what Carmona prayed to his demons we would do,” 
said Dick. 

“ I’ll back San Cristobal against them all, ” said I. 

“ Besides, there was the mule with the four white feet, and the 
goat-herd, ” Pilar reminded me. 

“ I can’t say they’ve brought us luck. ” 

“Wait,” said Pilar. 

“ Meanwhile let’s turn back, ” said Dick. “ Another hundred 
yards like this, and even if we don’t smash the differential or the 
chassis, Ropes will get side-slip of the brain. Half an hour of such 
driving must be equal to a week in Purgatory for a chauffeur. ” 

We did turn back, and feeling years older, arrived once more 
at the point from which he had started. We would have given 
something to see the man with the two hats, and his companion, 
but they had prudently taken themselves off, like full-fed vul- 
tures. This time we made no inquiries, but trusted to our 
intuition and our maps, which, without once contradicting each 
other, led us into a decent road that seemed like a path to para- 
dise after all we had endured. 

Making up for lost time, and revelling in joy of motion, we put 
on our best speed, which for a few moments brought the road- 
side telegraph posts as close together as fir trees in a Norwegian 
forest. But suddenly the motor slowed, and stopped with a tired 
sigh within sight of a village white as newly polished silver. 

“Petrol gone,” said Ropes. “It oughtn’t to be, but it is. 
Extra strain in that short cut of the Duke’s used it up. ” 

He got out, and untied a bidon from the reserve store fastened 


171 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 

upon the foot-board. But the tin was light in his hand as a 
feather. He gave a low whistle, and a shadow darkened his face, 
a shadow which was not made by the brim of his motor-cap as 
he bent his head to examine the bidon. 

“ There’s a leak here, sir, ” he said to me — for though Dick 
was now supposed to be his master, in moments of stress he clung 
to old habits. “Looks as if the tin had been pricked with some 
sharp instrument. H’m! Shouldn’t wonder if it had been. It 
would be of a piece with all the rest. ” 

“ You mean at Toledo ? ” 

“Yes, sir. Everything was right, then. I bought enough petrol 
in Madrid to last to Cordoba, pretty well all we could carry, and 
ordered more to meet us there, grande vitesse , in case I couldn’t 
get it — as you said we were sure now to go that way. ” 

“ Well, let’s look at your other bidons. We shall be in a fix if 
we’re held up here. ” 

“Two more empty,” announced Ropes. “And three bidons 
don’t suddenly take to leaking, of themselves. I suppose if I’d 
had my wits about me, I’d have looked, at Toledo, before 
starting; but who’s to think of everything ? I did have a thorough 
go at the car, for fear of mischief, but forgot the bidons. However, 
there’s one to go on with, I’m pretty sure; for it’s stowed away 
in a place nobody would think of, if they had to do the villain 
act in a hurry. ” 

Whereupon he handed out a new bidon from the tool box, 
and we both gave a sigh of relief to see that it was intact. At 
least, we had now enough to get us to Manzanares ; and at worst 
we could but be hung up there while Ropes went back by train 
as far as Madrid to buy petrol. 

While we had been making these discoveries, however, the 
village had been discovering us. It was not the time of year, as 
Pilar said, for bears and monkeys to arrive by road, therefore 
when something was seen approaching rapidly and stopping 
suddenly, the inhabitants of the white town had not been able 
to bear the suspense. Somebody had given the word that there 


172 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


was a thing to see, and out Torralba came pouring in its hundreds, 
a brilliant procession a full quarter of a mile long. 

Youth and beauty took the lead. Girls with arms thrown round 
the shoulders of one another’s blue, pink, or yellow jackets 
skipped along the dazzling road like peasant graces. Little, star- 
eyed brown boys had apparently taken the trouble to step off 
Murillo’s canvases to find out what we were, while their toddling 
sisters cried at being outdistanced. Behind these came men, 
middle-aged and old, in strange-shaped caps like fur and leather 
coal-scuttles, women with bare black heads, or faded blue 
handkerchiefs shadowing withered faces, and beggars hobbling 
on their sticks; a shouting, laughing army pouring its bright 
coloured stream down the white line of the straight road. And 
before the Gloria had been refreshed with her long drink of 
petrol, the wave of life had broken round her bonnet. Bright 
eyes stared, brown hands all but touched us; and children knew 
not whether to shriek with fright or laugh with joy as they saw 
themselves reflected in the glass turned up against our roof. 
But at the first cough of the motor as it throbbed into waking, 
the throng rolled back, dividing to let us pass, as if the car had 
cloven it in two, and joining again to tear home in our wake. 

All the able-bodied women who had not come out to meet us 
were sitting before the doors of their white houses, making lace 
mantillas and flounces for the young Queen-elect, — Torralba 
is famous for its lace-makers, — and they waved work-worn hands 
as we ran by, wishing us good speed, or throwing an improvised 
copla after the vanishing Gloria. 

Now we were in Don Quixote land; and had we gone back 
to his day as we entered his country of La Mancha, our red car 
could have roused little more excitement. Village after village 
turned out for us; always the same gorgeous colours against 
the background of white houses and blue arch of sky; always 
the same brilliant eyes and rich brown faces with scarlet lips 
that laughed. It was even a relief to the monotony to meet a 
band of fierce-eyed young carters ranged in a line with big stones 


173 


THE LUCK OF THE DREAM-BOOK 

in their hands, wanting to bash in the aristocrat’s features, if the 
aristocrats frightened their mules. But neither the aristocrats 
nor mules showed fear. Pilar even leaned out, as if daring the 
four or five sullen fellows to throw their stones into a girl’s face, 
and their arms fell inoffensively. 

“ I don’t believe any Spaniard, no matter how bad, would hurt 
a woman who had done him no harm ! ” she exclaimed. 

The road, with its rutty, irritating surface, seemed endless. 
We had started late, according to our promise, and having lost 
more than an hour on the “short cut,” grey wings of twilight 
began at last to fold in the landscape. It was long since we had 
passed a village ; Manzanares was not yet near, and I began to 
wonder whether the Gloria would not again grow thirsty before 
we could give her drink. 

Turn after turn; always the same jolting; always the same 
scene, till our minds wearied. Then, suddenly rounding a bend, 
we came upon something which made every one of us forget 
boredom. 

There was the Duke’s car — the grey car which we had sworn 
to avoid — stuck in a caniveau that cut the road in two. There 
were Carmona and his chauffeur staring balefully into the inner 
workings of the motor; there were the Duchess and Lady Vale- 
Avon, dust-powdered and disconsolate, sitting forlornly on 
roadside hillocks; and there was Monica, her veil off, walking 
up and down impatiently with her little hands buried in the 
pockets of her grey coat, the last gleam of sunset finding a re- 
sponsive note in the gold of her hair. 

“What did I tell you!” exclaimed Pilar. “The goat-herd! 
The mule with the white feet ! It’s the luck of the Dream-Book ! ” 


XXIII 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 

S LOWING up, we were almost upon the group; and for 
once we were welcome to our enemies. Even Carmona’s 
face brightened, a flicker of hope lit Lady Vale-Avon’s 
grey eyes; and the Duchess deliberately courted us 
with a smile. 

As for Monica, she was radiant as a child who has been sur- 
prised by the home-coming of loved ones; yet there was a new 
wistfulness in her eyes, despite the joy she showed. 

“ Oh, how glorious that you’ve come to the rescue!” she cried, 
all dimples and roses. Still, she looked from me to Pilar, and from 
Pilar to me, as if she longed to ask one or the other some question 
which it was impossible to speak; and I said to myself that it 
would go hard with me if I did not find out before I was many 
hours older, what that question was. 

Any port is welcome in a storm or among fellow-motorists, 
if you are helpless by the roadside with several ladies when night 
is coming on ; and Carmona’s first words showed that he had no 
scruple in making use of us. But with the trials he had gone 
through, and his natural preference for the help of any other 
car rather than the hated Gloria, he was in a black mood. He 
wished to be civil, lest we should be goaded into leaving him in the 
lurch ; yet it was plainly such an effort that I could have laughed 
aloud. Pilar would have been able to quote paragraph and page 
of her Dream-Book. 

The worst damage to the car was a broken spring, though 
something seemed to have gone wrong also with the ignition in 

174 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 175 

ihat disastrous bump into the caniveau. They had been where 
we found them for a couple of hours, Carmona admitted, 
without encountering any vehicle or animal to give them a tow. 
The first hope had been to stagger on to Manzanares (which 
originally they had meant to pass) with a broken spring; but 
the bee in the motor’s bonnet could not be made to buzz, and in 
despair, Carmona had been about to send his chauffeur on foot, 
in search of some conveyance for the ladies and their 
luggage. More hours must have passed, at best, before the 
man could have returned to the rescue, and already everybody 
was hungry. 

The ladies of the Duke’s party had to be transferred to the 
Gloria; and Dick, with airs of ownership, urged vague and 
voluble reasons why I should be the ir companion in the tonneau. 
We were the masters of the situation, and Carmona’s face, as 
he was obliged to take his seat beside the chauffeur who must 
steer the car in tow, repaid me for grievous wrongs. 

Pilar, not to be outdone in ingenuity by Dick, did for me what 
I could not do for myself, in contriving that I should sit next to 
Monica. Though I could say nothing for her ears which other 
ears might not hear, it was a joy to feel her slight shoulder 
nestling warm against my arm, to know that she could not be 
snatched from me by her mother or Carmona, but that as it was 
now, so it must be for many moments, perhaps an hour, to come. 
There was also satisfaction to be got from the fact that my 
enemy, bumping on behind in his own disabled car (propelled 
by our generosity and power), was glaring with malice, envy, 
and all uncharitableness at my back. 

My one regret in these moments which should have been 
perfect, was that my prophetic soul hadn’t caused me to write a 
long letter to Monica, which I might have been able to slip into 
her hand under cover of rugs and darkness. 

Ropes had to light the lamps before we saw more of Man- 
zanares than an illusive church spire which kept appearing and 
disappearing like a will-o’-the-wisp. But the petrol held out, and 


176 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


the Gloria’s breathing was regular, despite the weight she had 
to tow over ruts and across gutters. Once, however, Ropes looked 
back at me with an expressive movement of the shoulders which 
I interpreted as, “we’re lucky if we get there!” so I could have 
shouted “hurrah!” at sight of the first houses, though they 
brought my last moment of happiness. 

Another instant, and the population of Manzanares was 
answering to the thrum of our motor, as soldiers to the call of the 
drum. From somewhere, their saints alone knew where, an army 
of children poured into the long straight street, and as we slowed 
to avoid wholesale murder, they took advantage of our considera- 
tion to swarm up the car like ants. They ran shouting beside us, 
climbed on to the steps, hung on behind, fighting so ruthlessly 
for choice positions that they all but fell under the wheels. One 
would not have supposed there could be other children left in 
Spain. How there could be room for these in the town of Man- 
zanares was a wonder; how they could all have turned out on the 
second in their thousands, was a miracle; and their promptness 
would have done credit to any commander. 

The shrill cries of this legion, drowning the sound of the motor, 
and increasing as the contingent was swelled from each side 
street, roused the town. Families left their tables and rushed to 
the door, their supper in their hands. Bakers with white arms 
left to-morrow’s bread in the troughs ; a group of farriers shoeing 
a horse stopped work, until the glowing iron paled. Shopkeepers 
who had lighted their windows with a blaze of electricity, ran 
into the street. Mules and donkeys tied to doorposts shared the 
general excitement, plunged and reared before the advance of 
the human breaker with the car on its crest snapped their cords, 
and dashed into their master’s houses. 

Never, among all our successes, had we made such a succes 
jou as this; but then, never before had we had a car in tow. 
Half our triumph belonged to the Lecomte; yet either of us 
w T ould gladly have dispensed with all ; and had it not been for a 
small but determined policeman who struggled to preserve the 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 177 

credit of the town, we might have been half the night fighting our 
way to an hotel. 

He dealt blows and exhortations indiscriminately, piloted us 
through side streets which it would never have occurred to our 
imagination to enter, and with exertions worthy of him who 
“ singly kept the bridge, ” helped us make a lane for the ladies 
to dart into the door of the little fonda. 

It was an iron door of elaborate openwork, leading, Moorish 
fashion, through a shallow vestibule into a patio -— the first we 
had seen on our way south; and if it had not been slammed shut 
with a loud click, by some person inside, half Manzanares would 
have poured after the fugitives. 

Assured of the ladies’ safety, the men of the two (outwardly) 
united parties remained to help the chauffeurs and a bewildered 
landlord to take down luggage. Overwhelmed by a wave of half- 
grown children and a thick spray of babies, Carmona’s man lost 
his presence of mind. The two cars had hardly stopped before 
the creatures were in them, and on them, and under them, trying 
to pinch the tyres, blowing the horn, squalling, laughing, crying. 
“Mon Dieu, c’est un obsession!” wailed the unfortunate 
Frenchman ; and even the imperturbable Ropes showed signs of 
“ nerves. ” 

As fast as the thronging goblins were beaten off, they were up 
again in redoubled force; but so merry they were, and so hand- 
some was each bold brown face, with its dazzling eyes, that it was 
impossible to be angry. Somehow, we rescued the luggage, 
and with the aid of the landlord pitched, or slid, or rolled it 
through the door, momentarily opened. 

“For Heaven’s sake, sir, see me through this!” implored 
Ropes, noticing that the men of the party were on the point of 
following the luggage. “Hate to trouble you, but I don’t think 
my Spanish will run to it. ” In pity I climbed into the car to go 
with him to the stable which the landlord indicated as our garage. 
It was an experience to be remembered in nightmares; yet there 
was in it a sort of schoolboy pleasure. We seemed to have done 


178 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


battle against the whole force of the army out against us ; never- 
theless when we returned to the fonda , swept along by a large 
bodyguard, we found a regiment assembled round the door. 
How we got through was food for another wild dream, but we 
did get through, to stand panting on the other side of the grating, 
in the patio. 

Dozens of dark faces were pressed against the bars, like tier 
above tier of glowing pansies in a flower-bed; and we knew at 
last the sensation of those who are the observed, not the observ- 
ers, in a menagerie. 

Everyone was in the patio , where electric lights hanging from 
the balconies mingled with rich yellow lamplight and ruddy 
firelight streaming from the kitchen. All the luggage was piled 
anyhow, in a chaotic heap surging with suit-cases, boiling with 
dressing-bags ; while near by, like Marius and a friend or two 
at the ruins of Carthage, stood the Duchess, Lady Yale- A von, 
Carmona, Dick, and the Cherub. Monica and Pilar had been 
talking together at a distance; but seeing me gravitate in their 
direction, Lady Vale-Avon called her daughter. 

“ The ladies are saying they can’t stay here ,” announced Dick, 
his voice in sympathy with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“ I’m not saying so, ” cut in Monica. “ I think it will be fun; a 
real adventure. The landlady’s wonderful, and all her daughters 
and nieces beauties. If we’re nice to them, they’ll be adorable 
to us.” 

“The place is a den!” exclaimed Lady Vale-Avon. “There 
must be something better in the town. ” 

“ I’m afraid there isn’t, ” said the Duke. “ This accident has 
made me helpless. I’m horribly sorry; but we can’t get on any- 
where else to-night. ” 

“ We can sit up, ” said the Duchess, “ in the automobile. ” 

“ Do let’s look at the rooms, ” begged Monica. “ And don’t let 
them see we’re finding fault. Their feelings will be hurt. ” 

“What nonsense!” replied Lady Yale-Avon. “As if they had 
feelings ! ” 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 179 

“ If you don’t consider them, they won’t take pains to make 
you comfortable, ” I said, knowing by instinct the people with 
whom we had to deal. “They’re beginning to suspect already 
that something’s wrong, and judging from the expression of 
their faces it will take only a little more for the landlord to say 
he has no rooms. Then we really may have to sit in the automo- 
biles. ” 

The keeper of the fonda and his family, who had come so 
warmly to welcome the strangers, were now hovering aloof, 
silent and suspicious, their spirits dashed by the contemptuous 
looks of Lady Vale-Avon and the Duchess. Standing in semi- 
darkness, the landlord’s face was a blur of brown shadow, 
featureless, save for a pair of enormous eyes burning with an 
emotion which was no longer hospitality. His wife, whose broad 
shoulder was pressed against her husband’s as if to form a line 
of defence, was a dark-browed, gypsy-like woman, who must once 
have been beautiful, and might now be formidable. Behind 
them were grouped a handsome boy, and three or four extraor- 
dinarily pretty girls with red and white roses in their hair. 

“They wouldn’t dare turn us out!” exclaimed Lady Vale- 
Avon. “ They can never have had persons of our sort before. ” 

“If you asked, they’d probably retort that Dukes and Mar- 
quesses were thick as blackberries, ” said I. 

She glanced at Carmona, hoping for support, but he shrugged 
his shoulders in despair; and a look from me was a signal for the 
Cherub to step forward. 

The atmosphere had begun to tingle, and in a few moments 
more it might have been too late to make peace with these proud 
and self-respecting people, who had never submitted to indignity. 
But in the space of six seconds the magnetism of the Cherub had 
begun to do its work. He murmured, nodded, and smiled, took 
the family into his confidence with a few graphic gestures, ex- 
plained that the ladies were upset by an accident, appealed to 
the landlord’s chivalry, and the landlady’s heart. Gathering 
frowns were chased away by smiles; and when Monica showed 


180 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


her dimples to the boy and girls with a look which pleaded for 
kindness, the battle was fought and won. 

They had not many bedrooms. Several were engaged by 
commerical travellers, but these gentlemen should be stowed 
into one room, their clothing and luggage moved at once. Oh, 
they would not object when they learned that it was a question 
of accommodating ladies; or if they did, they must eat their 
objections for supper; it was no matter. And the landlord and 
landlady would give up their room, a good one, their worships 
need have no fear. All should be ready in the opening and closing 
of an eye. But would we meanwhile have supper? There was 
always enough for a few unexpected ones. 

Having listened so far, the Cherub turned blandly to Carmona. 
These arrangements need not include the Senor Duque’s party, 
unless he liked, of course, but — his palms were extended as if 
to receive the decision. Plump it fell into them. Everyone must 
stay, and make the best of it. 

So the ladies were bundled into a room where they might get 
rid of the dust, and the men into another; clean rooms, with 
whitewashed walls, bare save for a pictured saint or two in 
lurid colours; floors covered with coarse, bright matting; and 
iron beds with lace-frilled and embroidered pillows. 

In a quarter of an hour everyone was ready for dinner, but 
five out of fifteen minutes I had given to the hasty scribbling of a 
pencilled note for Monica. I hoped to slip it into her hand in the 
dining-room, but she was closely under guard; and Carmona 
annexed four seats at the head of the long table, by which 
manoeuvre he secured isolation for his party. It was safe from 
any sortie of ours, as there was a scattered contingent of com- 
mercial travellers already earnestly engaged in dining on either 
side of the table. Two polite men on the left, and three on the 
right, all with napkins tucked under their chins, rose, offering 
to move rather than divide friends; but Carmona assured them 
that the sacrifice was unnecessary. As they were all paralysed 
by Monica’s beauty, of a type so different from any to which 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 181 

they were accustomed, they had not the self-command to protest; 
and as dinner went on (in many courses of which the landlord 
was evidently proud), they could scarcely do justice to their 
merluza served with grilled lemon and minced red Spanish pepper; 
their tortilla of eggs, potatoes, peas, and ham; their pigeons 
with olives, or even their freshly baked maccaroni, for gazing 
languorously at the vision of pink and white and gold. 

Such charms as Pilar’s, though unsurpassable of their kind, 
went for nothing with these ardent gentlemen; and even the land- 
lord’s son, daughters, and nieces who waited upon their guests, 
forgot half their duties in abject admiration. “An angel!” “a 
saint ! ” “ a princess of fairyland ! ” were a few of their whispered 
adjectives; and when the object of their worship was snatched 
away by her mother and the Duchess, before the goats’-milk 
cheese had been brought round, a gloom fell upon the room. 
The commercial travellers galloped through the remainder of 
the meal, and went out, hoping perhaps, if they promenaded the 
street, to have the joy of seeing a light in the radiant being’s 
window. The pretty girls of the household vanished with mur- 
mured excuses, leaving us at the mercy of the boy, who sighed 
grievously, dropped a sugar bowl, and spilled coffee within 
an ace of the Cherub’s shoulder. 

Pilar presently disappeared also, leaving her three men alone 
at the table, observed only by a few dozen eager faces pressed 
against the iron bars protecting the open window. 

Soon we heard peals of laughter from the patio; the pretty 
girls were sallying forth on a foraging expedition in search of a 
warming-pan to heat the beds of the three great ladies, who 
feared dampness. In twenty minutes they came back, and we 
arrived in the patio in time to see the triumphal entrance of four 
or five charming creatures, bearing among them a long-handled 
brass vessel which had probably existed since the days of Philip 
the Second. But this was only the beginning of the fun ; and we 
made an excuse of our cigarettes to linger, and hear what wt 
could not see. 


182 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

It was not a beautiful patio ; and the public still surged out- 
side the iron-grated door in the hope of further insight into the 
private lives of the travelling menagerie; but our luggage had 
been carried to the rooms which were now ready (thanks to the 
complaisance of the dazzled commercial gentlemen), and there 
were garden seats, on which we settled ourselves in spite of the 
chill in the evening air. 

From the rooms above we heard laughter and ecstatic cries. 
Evidently the warming-pan was making a sensation as it went 
its round, or something else had happened; and when at last 
the girls trooped downstairs from the balcony, I beckoned them 
to come our way. They skipped to us, wild with delight at 
the prospect of pouring out their hearts to an appreciative 
audience. 

The great warming-pan, stuffed with embers that glowed 
and paled, was laid on the tiled pavement while the girls wove 
themselves into a group, with interlacing arms. 

“ Why are you so happy ? ” I asked 

“Happy? We have been in paradise, with the angels,” re- 
plied the prettiest girl with crimson roses stuck in a bank of 
copper hair. 

“ There was but one angel, ” objected her brunette cousin. 

“ That is true. The two old ones think themselves everything, 
but they are less than nothing. I would not change my years 
for theirs, with their jewels and their quarterings. Thanks be 
to God, in our Spain, we are all as noble as the nobles, or at 
least in this province!” 

“ You are also all beautiful ! ” said I. 

“That you can say so, senor, after seeing that wonder!” 
exclaimed the landlord’s eldest daughter, a creature of carnation 
and flame. “ Ah, the joy of it, we have been undressing her ! ” 

“If you could have seen her, with gold hair down to her 
knees!” gasped a gypsy of fifteen. “And when we had got her 
dress ofF, and she was in her — ” 

“Hush, Micaela! it is not seemly that you should mention 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 183 

such garments in the presence of senores!” broke in the girl of 
the copper coronet. 

“ But why, then, since they are most beautiful ? You know 
well, Mariquita, you yourself said they were like the handwork 
of fairies, and her shoulders — ” 

* Be silent, foolish one, or I shall have to burn your nose off 
with the warming-pan ! ” 

“ And what did the elder ladies say to the young lady’s new 
maids?” I asked quickly, as great eyes began to flash, and 
scarlet lips to pout. 

Back came the smiles, and the maidens fell into a fit of school- 
girl giggling. 

“There was but one Majesty there, praise be to the saints, 
the English one, who is no doubt the mother of our lady angel. 
They have two rooms between them, but that of the senorita 
is tiny, with no door of its own, and only a square glazed hole 
for a window, though the bed is as good as any, and we have 
given it the best linen. When we took in the warming-pan, our 
angel tried to say in Spanish that she was sure our beds were dry 
and well aired, as indeed they were. She had taken off her bodice, 
and was undoing her hair, which was so beautiful we could have 
fallen down and prayed to her as a saint. Then we could not 
resist, but began helping her to undress, talking about her beauty. 
SHe was not offended, though we kissed her hands, and that 
silly Micaela one of her tiny white feet when we had pulled off 
the stocking — ” 

“ Now you are as bad as I was, Mariquita. ” 

“No, indeed; what is a stocking? A thing it is as well to go 
without as to wear. That is different. The angel laughed till she 
was close to tears, and said we were far nicer maids than the one 
her mother had sent on by railway train in starting by automo- 
bile. After this, she would be spoiled for others; and she gave us 
each one a present. Lola, two wondrous hatpins with blue stones 
in silver — not that she would ever suffer the tortures of a hat, 
but it is a great thing to have them. Teresa, a sweet round purse 


184 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


of blue leather, of the size to hold a five peseta piece; Micaela, 
a handkerchief with lace on the edge, and me an embroidered 
veil like a gossamer. What did we care that Her Majesty the 
mother would have sent us away if she could? She had not 
enough Spanish to make us understand what we did not wish to 
understand, and at last she saved her breath for another day. 
But by that time we had finished, for we had put our angel into 
her night-dress, a thing of cobwebs and lace kept together by 
blue ribbons, which I should have thought good enough for a 
queen to wear when mounting her throne. ” 

“You must show us your presents,” said I, with deliberate 
cunning. All were displayed on the instant, with chattering, 
laughing, and clamourous claims for rival merits. But the veil 
was the thing which I looked on to covet. She had worn it one 
day after rain, when the roads had been clear of dust, and her 
face had gleamed through the lace as a star gleams through a 
floating cloud-film. I felt that I could not see it in other hands 
than mine. 

While the Cherub compared the gifts with eloquence, I drew 
Mariquita apart. “I want that veil very much,” said I; “so 
much that I’ll give you a hundred pesetas if you’ll part with it. ” 
She opened her tobacco-brown eyes. “ But the senor is only a 
man, and cannot know that the bit of embroidered net is worth 
no more, in money, than fifteen pesetas at most. ” 

“ It wasn’t its money-worth I was thinking about. ” 

“A — ah, I see! The senorito — yes, of course, it would be 
strange if he did not ! I love my new veil, not only because it is 
pretty, but more because it came to me from the most beautiful 
senorita I have ever seen. Still, since the senorito will value it 
even more than I can, I will give it to him, though not for the 
hundred pesetas. I will give it for nothing except his thanks. ” 

I told the girl she was too good; that I could not rob her of the 
gift just made; but she insisted, and I saw that her pride would 
be hurt if I refused. So I accepted, while a way of benefitting 
myself and rewarding her occurred to my mind. 


THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA 185 

“You see how it is with me.” I said, with a confidential air. 
“ You have been very generous. Will you be helpful too ? ” 

“You may trust me,” she answered. “I love a love affair, 
especially if there is difficulty. I shall have an acknowledged 
novio myself soon, I hope. He is a bull-fighter — only a beginner, 
but he will be great one day, and though my father made a long 
face at first, now he shrugs his shoulders; and when that is done, 
there is always hope. Her Majesty the mother makes the long 
face, does she not ? ” 

I nodded. 

“ She will shrug the shoulders by and by. ” 

“I doubt it. But meanwhile, I’ve written a letter. Will you 
try to give it to the young lady ? ” 

“ Yes, ” said Mariquita. “ I will try my best. I think I can do it. 
Not to-night, for she has gone to bed, and there would be no 
excuse to get back to her room, since I must pass through Her 
Majesty’s. But to-morrow morning I will take the ladies’ hot 
water, with oh, such an innocent face! And I will take the 
letter too. ” 

“ Thank you many times, ” said I. 

“ The thing isn’t done yet. ” 

“ It’s for your goodwill I thank you in advance. And this is 
for your bull-fighter, as a present from his novia. ” 

I took out my scarf-pin. Her face flushed with pleasure, as it 
would have flushed for no sum of money. She might have waived 
away a present for herself, but she could not resist one for the 
novio , and I was thanked far beyond the gift’s merit. 

If she went to bed happy, so did I, for I believed that Monica 
would have my letter in the morning; and if the wistfulness in 
her eyes meant some new trouble in which I had a part, I hoped 
that the words I had written might banish it. 


XXIV 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

N EVERTHELESS I could not sleep on my hard but 
clean pillows, for wondering about that look of Mon- 
ica’s, and its meaning; and whenever I shut my eyes, 
hordes of red and yellow figures poured out of white 
houses upon white roads, forming irritating, kaleidoscopic pat- 
terns on my tired retina. 

Each hour that passed was cried by the watchman, far away, 
and then close under my window ; a fearsome cry like a groan of 
agony uttered by a madman in a dying spasm. 

I was glad when morning came; and after such a bath as two 
or three miniature jugs of water afforded (the deer-eyed boy 
wondered in the name of all the saints what I could do with so 
many), I threw off the brain-clouds of a sleepless night. 

Before long Monica would have my letter. She would know — 
if she could have doubted — that if I had loved her at first, I 
worshipped her now. She would know why we had not followed 
more closely yesterday; and why — unless Carmona chose to 
accept our help again — we would go on before the grey car to- 
day. She would know also that my most earnest hope was to take 
her away, out of the reach of harm. 

I was dressed, and had had my coffee and hard, fat roll of 
Spanish bread, by half-past seven, as I was sure Ropes would be 
wanting to see me. I would not have disturbed Dick, who slept 
in a room across the patio , but I found him in the dining-room, 
wrestling with a glass of thick chocolate and a finger-shaped 
sweet biscuit. “ I’m trying to like Spanish customs,” said he. 

186 


187 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

I laughed. 

“ Because, if I’m going to carry through that scheme of mine 
about motor traffic, I may have to live on the spot, you see.” 

“Oh!” said I. “And what about Colonel O’Donnel’s copper 
mines ? Have you thought of a means to persuade him it’s his 
duty to have them worked ? ” 

“ In a way, I have,” Dick answered dryly. “ An indirect sort of 
way. What about our gasoline ? Heard anything about it ? ” 

“ No. I’m going to find Ropes.” 

“ Rather a sell for Carmona, if he did order our bidons pricked, 
to feel it’s his fault if we’re held up as long as he is.” 

“There’s Ropes in the patio ,” I said. “I’ll go and interview 
him.” 

“ What news ? ” I asked. 

“ Well, sir, I did what the landlord said last night, and had a 
try for moto-naphtha — as they call it here — at the chemist’s.” 

“ Did they have any ? ” 

“ Oh yes, sir, they had some. As much as a pint apiece, in the 
two shops. They wanted to sell it by the ounce.” 

Dick and I laughed, though my mirlh was not care-free. I had 
visions of being stuck at this place until Ropes made a journey 
to Madrid and back, Carmona’s car slipping away long before 
we were ready. 

“ I was afraid it was hopeless to look for petrol here,” I said, 
striving for resignation, even though I saw Mariquita going up- 
stairs with two battered tins of hot water. 

“ Not yet, sir. A man who heard me asking for moto-naphtha 
at the chemist’s, advised me to try the cemetery.” 

“ The cemetery ? You misunderstood the word.” 

“ No, sir; it was cemetery. And what’s more, he said the Mayor 
keeps it there to kill lobsters.” 

This statement, delivered somewhat nervously, was received 
with derision. 

“The fellow was stuffing you,” said Dick. 

“ I don’t think so, sir.” 


188 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“Then he’s mad,” I insisted. “Fishing for lobsters with moto- 
naphtha in a cemetery at Manzanares is a story Baron Munc- 
hausen would have thought twice about before telling.” 

“ Langostas does mean langouste — or lobsters, I suppose, 
sir ? ” asked Ropes. 

“Ye — es,” I answered thoughtfully. Then lightning flashed 
across the darkness of my mind. “ It means locusts as well,” said 
I. “They use petrol to kill locusts, and for some reason best 
known to themselves keep it at the cemetery. We’ll go. Ropes, 
and persuade them to sell us more than an ounce.” 

“ Right, sir. At once ? ” 

“ In a moment,” said I. 

Mariquita, empty-handed, was coming downstairs. I waylaid 
her, under that portion of the balcony hidden from the window 
of Lady Vale-Avon’s room. 

“ Did you deliver the letter ? ” I asked. 

“Yes, sehor.” 

“ To the young lady herself ? ” 

“To herself. But I must tell you what worries me, senor. As 
I was leaving the outer room, I heard a sound like a cry of 
distress, from the inner room. I looked back, and Her Majesty 
the mother had gone in. That is all I know. I could do nothing, 
whatever had happened, and I felt it would be well to escape 
before I could be questioned.” 

“ What do you think happened ? ” 

“How can I tell, senor? Unless the terrible lady snatched your 
letter from the angel.” 

“ At least, I hope the angel had had time to read it.” 

“I do not know, senorito. There was not much time; but she 
might have been quick; and if the letter was not long, there is 
still hope.” 

This was poor comfort. All my joyous anticipations dashed, 
I tried to think of some way of finding out whether Monica had 
read my letter, and whether there were any way of smuggling 
another to her. 


189 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

The note had been written in such haste, that I scarcely knew 
what I had said. No name had been signed; nevertheless, if Lady 
Yale- A von read what I had written, she would say to herself, 
“ It is not Cristobal O’Donnel who says these things, but a more 
dangerous man.” If she had the letter, she could show it to 
Carmona; but, as I thought the matter over, I decided that it 
was unlikely she would do this. 

Spaniards, especially Spaniards with Moorish blood in their 
veins, do not like to think girls they love capable of carrying on 
secret correspondence with other men ; and I imagined that Lady 
Vale- Avon was a woman to guess this. Already Carmona knew 
that Lady Monica was interested in someone else, or had a 
girlish fancy for him, which might or might not have been fright- 
ened away. But his desire for her would not be whetted by the 
fact that she was receiving letters from that someone else, per- 
haps sending them to him ; and it struck me that Lady Vale-Avon 
would conceal the correspondence, rather than flaunt it in Car- 
mona’s face. If I were right, then I was as safe as before from 
the Duke’s jealously; but, had Monica read my letter ? 

On the alert as her mother would be now, I should find it more 
difficult than ever to communicate with the girl. Yet I could not 
bear to leave Manzanares in fear of a misunderstanding. 

Nothing more could be done at the moment, however; and I 
hurried Ropes off that we might finish our errand and get back 
by the time that Monica was down. 

It appeared that the man who had volunteered information 
about moto-naphthawas waiting to act as guide. He was still at the 
chemist’s, and from there led us to the Casa Consistorial. At the 
Casa Consistorial were two policemen in the hall, warming them- 
selves over a hole in the ground, where glowed charcoal embers. 
But the Mayor had not arrived. Without him nothing could be 
arranged. Besides, even if he were present and willing to consent, 
the key of the cemetery was with the cura , who might be any- 
where. 

Off we dashed to the cura's house, and just in time. Five 


190 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

minutes later, and we might have had to wait hours for him. But 
there he was, a delightful, white-haired old man, who would be 
charmed to open the cemetery for our worships, since it was not 
to bury us ; but he could make no move in that direction without 
the honourable concurrence of the Mayor. 

Back, then, we bustled to the Casa Consistorial, with the sen- 
sation of shuttlecocks, played between battledores at cross pur- 
poses. 

But at last the second battledore was ready to send us in the 
right direction. The Mayor, a young man, who looked like a 
lawyer in tall hat and frock-coat, was as polite as only a Spaniard 
can be. He put himself, and his house, and Manzanares at our 
service. It was something like being given the freedom of Lon- 
don ; and what was more to the point than anything else, he offer- 
ed us as much moto-naphtha as the town possessed, at any price 
we pleased to pay. 

The question was, how much did the town possess; a single 
quart, or a hundred gallons ? The Mayor himself was not sure, 
so we rattled off in an ancient “ simon ” to the cemetery to find 
out; and luckily were able to carry away all we were likely to 
need for the next two days, while leaving some for the locusts. 
But between the Casa Consistorial, the house of the cura , the 
distant cemetery, and the drive back to our stable-garage, it had 
taken us nearly three hours to achieve our end. Then there was 
a little lingering with the car, to make sure that all was well and 
no more tricks had been played ; and the walk back to the jonda 
exhausted the last of my patience. I had not expected to be gone 
more than an hour, and I had been gone three. Meanwhile, I 
said to myself, almost anything might have happened. My idea 
had been to get back by the time that Monica was dressed, and 
now, for all I could tell, she might have gone. 

Dick laughed at this suggestion, for, said he, Carmona’s chauf- 
feur was not a worker of miracles except, perhaps, on other men’s 
cars; and he could not have got his master’s in order and ready 
to start. His arguments were reasonable; nevertheless, like many 


191 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

other plausible deductions, they were wrong; for the first news 
we heard at the hotel was that the grey automobile had left nearly 
an hour before. The chauffeur, it seemed, had been up all night 
working, and had had assistance in the early morning at a 
machine-shop. The injuries had been patched up, and the car 
was expected to get on either to Andujar, or Linares if a certain 
bridge had been finished. 

After all, this was not as bad as if we had made no promise to 
the Duchess. We were bound not to lie in wait for, or closely 
follow, her son’s car; and had it not been for the “luck of the 
Dream-Book,” Carmona and his party would have been far 
away last night when we arrived at Manzanares. Had I not been 
tortured by doubts about the fate of my letter, I would have been 
philosopher enough to say: “ Patience, until Seville ! ” 

As it was, patience was the last virtue I could cultivate; and 
for what remained of that day, I was unable to find the smallest 
pleasure in motoring. 

Again we were on the highroad between Madrid and Seville; 
yet the waving ruts and ridges of hardened mud were sprinkled 
with a green glaze of grass, as if in treacherous attempt at con- 
cealment. Dust curled behind us like smoke, creeping under the 
tarpaulin that covered our luggage on the roof, and into our suit- 
cases, powdering our clothing like fine white sugar. 

Despite the good springs and deep cushions of the car, Pilar’s 
fight body danced up and down, as Dick said, like a bit of Ameri- 
can popcorn over a hot fire; and our two guests, who had thought 
themselves motor enthusiasts, did not respond ardently to Dick’s 
forced praises of the sport. 

How glorious, said he (every other word emphasized with a 
bump), how glorious not to be bound down to the fixed and in- 
convenient hours of trains. To stop where and when you like; 
to start on again when you choose; never to have your view of the 
choicest bit of scenery blotted out in a tunnel ; to be grimed by no 
railway smoke ; always to feel your face fanned by a fresh breeze, 
tingling with ozone; to read — if you had the seeing eye — the 


192 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


whole life of the country in writing on the road; the tracks of 
heavy carts ; the delicate prints of donkey’s feet, trotting to mar- 
ket laden with wine or fruit; the tracing of diligence wheels, or 
old-fashioned carriages on their way to a bull-fight ; the footmarks 
of peasants economically carrying their shoes over their shoul- 
ders ; the clover-like imprint of sheeps’ little hoofs, and goats’ ; 
the pads of shepherd dogs. To flash through kinematographic 
glimpses of vineland and oliveland, and graceful blue mountain 
shapes ; to see strange villages of whose existence you would never 
know when plodding along by train; to fly from one living re- 
minder of Don Quixote to another, as we were doing to-day (had 
we not seen the inn where he was knighted P) — Bang ! Never 
before can I remember hailing with delight the pistol-like report 
which can mean but one thing ; the bursting of a tyre. But I was 
enchanted that Dick’s eloquence should be interrupted. 

We had jolted through wine-making Valdepenas, where the 
red juice of the grape seems to spout from a grey valley of stones; 
we had passed, in the quaint market-place, the posada which 
Don Quixote knew; we had bounced through Santa Cruz de 
Mudela, with its fine old fifteenth century church, and had seen 
its famous and gaily coloured garters exposed for sale in the 
shops; and now we were far from towns or villages, out in the 
country. 

Luckily, everybody was ready for lunch, and Pilar and the 
Cherub had had the forethought to order things which would 
not have occurred to Dick or me. Not far away, on the crest of a 
hill-billow, stood a road-mender’s house, with an outside, adobe 
oven like a huge beehive. We crawled to it, travelling on the 
collapsed tyre, and were served by a delightful brown family; 
served as if we had been the King and his suite who had lunched 
(so said the brown family) on that spot a few weeks ago. Out 
came the chairs which the King and his friends had sat in, plates 
and glasses from which the King and his friends had drunk ; and 
the simple people derived a childlike pleasure from dwelling on 
the episode. 


193 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

As before, the news of our presence seemed to flash through 
the air and bring, in the same mysterious way, an audience out of 
empty space. Pilar said that the people who came were in reality 
wild birds, seen by our sophisticated eyes in the form of human 
beings ; and as if they had been wild birds, we coaxed them, till 
they trusted us and fed with us, drinking from our wineskin the 
blood of the Spanish grape, almost innocent of alcohol. The soft 
Spanish language, as it fell from their lips, was rich as the taste 
of that Spanish wine on the tongue, and stirred in my heart a 
pride of kinsmanship. 

While we others lunched. Ropes jacked up the Gloria and 
changed the inner tube, pausing now and then to munch a sand- 
wich or swallow a draught of wine with an unruffled air charac- 
teristic of him. When the road-mender mentioned that four ban- 
didos had been captured in the morning by the civil guard, on 
the road along which we had passed, his expression did not 
change by the twitching of a muscle. Indeed, he looked equal to 
disposing of half a dozen brigands without the aid of a single 
guardia civile. 

After forty minutes by the wayside, we set off to penetrate 
farther into that melancholy country which Cervantes loved, and 
almost at once were in the Venta de Cordenas, that wide and 
stony waste where Don Quixote rode to do his penance. The 
gayest spirits must have been dashed by the gloom of the knight’s 
self-imposed prison, and mine were not improved. I had a dis- 
quieting impression that Monica’s voice, calling an appeal, came 
echoing from the mountain walls. 

Of course, there was nothing in it, except superstitious non- 
sense of which I ought to be ashamed; yet I could not shut my 
ears to her voice, which seemed to cry the words her fingers once 
had written : “ Don’t desert me ! Don’t leave me alone ! ” 

Always the echo followed, as the car mounted higher on the 
slopes of the Sierra Morena, and such glories of Spain opened 
out before our eyes as we had not seen yet, even in the splendid 
Gorge of Pancorbo. 


194 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Crest above crest, great chains of mountains cut the smooth 
sapphire of the sky; and as we serpentined into their closer grasp, 
each loop of the Alpine road gave a new and more fantastic 
combination of rock and stream. The car was boring into 
a gorge of astounding sublimity, a hammer-stroke of 
Vulcan which had cleft the mountain and left behind chips 
of copper, of gold, of silver, and a rich sprinkling of precious 
gems. 

As the god’s hammer fell, out of the ruin it made were shaped 
marvels of form; Olympian castles and giant statues, images of 
such savage creatures as roamed devastating the earth in days 
when man was in his childhood. 

Even the calm countenance of Ropes was transfigured by this 
burst of splendour. “ Makes you forget that roads can be bad, 
and tyres go wrong, doesn’t it, sir ? ” he said to me. “ I could drive 
through places like these, day and night on end, without food or 
drink, never knowing if I was done up.” 

And praise from a chauffeur is praise indeed ! 

We were in the defile of Despenaperros, the most terrific and, 
at the same time, the noblest gorge of Spain ; and I should have 
known it from stories told by my father, who had once fought 
with bandoleros upon this very road. Down into the river that 
tossed up white plumes of foam far below, he had flung one man, 
while another fired shot after shot from his carbine, screened 
behind a rock on the opposite side of the ravine, scarcely a bis- 
cuit-throw away. 

Long before, too, history had been made in this mountain 
passage whose walls had rung with wilder sounds than the scream- 
ing of our siren. The rival battle-cries of Moor and Spaniard had 
echoed among the rocks, and Christian blood and pagan had 
mingled in the white spume of the river. 

I thought of these things, as I looked down into the silent 
depths of the gulf, and saw the sparkling veins of granite, and 
purple masses of slate gleam with volcanic life and colour. But 
still I heard the haunting echo of Monica’s voice, in the solitude 


195 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 

through which she must lately have passed, perhaps leaving 
some message, if I could only know. 

Was it merely a fantastic twist of my nerves, or was her spirit 
calling, trying to make itself heard and understood ? 

It was Pilar who broke the spell by a sudden clapping of her 
hands. “Andalucia! dear Andalucia!” she cried; and each one 
of us, subdued and silenced by the majesty of the scene, started 
as if waking from sleep. 

She was pointing at a stone obelisk, looking at which her father 
smiled and raised his hat. 

“No more cold ” said he; “no more winds to nip our noses. 
Here’s the dividing line between the north countries and the 
country of the sun.” 

Then, as if the obelisk had been the finger of some genie in- 
voking a magic change, an enchantment blurred the stem feat- 
ures of the landscape. It was as if the fierce face of an angry giant 
had been transformed into that of a beautiful, laughing woman 
with the sun in her eyes. 

The defile opened when we had slipped past a half-hidden 
mountain hamlet or two; widened into a valley bright with colour 
as the jewels on the spread tail of a peacock; and boat-like, the 
car rode an undulating sea of green and azure and gold, tha t 
scintillated as if a spray of diamonds were tossed into air with 
the speed of our going. 

At Santa Elena we were in a Spain I had not seen. At La Caro- 
lina we burst into a world fair and fertile as the Garden of Eden ; 
and I remembered the Moorish legend that Heaven is built on 
the blue that hangs over Andalucia. 

Hedges of aloe brandished zincen swords and darts; cacti 
sprawled and leered along the roadside; set in the vivid green of 
ripening grain, olive groves seemed carved from jade; or the bare 
rosy shoulders of sloping hillsides turned by contrast their pale 
tints to tarnished silver. Vines with young gold leaves trailed the 
purple earth; avenues of acacias dripped perfumes; and as the 
sun leaned towards the west, the quivering pink light on violet 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


196 

mountains gave to Andalucia the vivid, almost violent colouring 
one sees in sensational posters. 

Each girl we passed wore a bright flower shining star-like 
through the black cloud of her hair. The men had discarded the 
fur-trimmed Louis XI caps for the broad-brimmed, grey som- 
breros de Cordoba, and the horses or mules were harnessed 
with gay splashes of red and blue colour, and bobbing tassels. 

We had talked of Linares, the lead-mining town, as a halting- 
place for the night, as we were pledged not to track down the 
Lecomte; and on the outskirts of Bailen, as twilight fell, the 
Gloria was brought to a sudden stop in the midst of a pulsating 
crowd, that we might ask the way. 

If we aroused their curiosity, they piqued us to the same emo- 
tion, for most of the men, and there were hundreds, not only 
wore upon their legs a kind of divided pinafore, but carried on 
their backs an apparatus which would have excited wonder in 
any other than this fairy country. 

The machine reminded me at first glance of a fire-extinguisher; 
then of some appliance used by miners to hold a supply of oxy- 
gen. One part of me wished to know what the instrument was; 
the other preferred to remain in ignorance, lest the explanation 
should prove too commonplace. But Waring had all my curiosity, 
and none of my scruples ; so he asked a question with a gesture 
more intelligible than his Spanish; and just as I had feared, the 
weird union of reservoirs and nozzles was no more than a con- 
trivance for spraying vines to protect them from phylloxera. 

As always, we brought the fascinations of the Cherub to bear 
upon the crowd, as one trains the latest gun upon the enemy ; 
and his crooning brought out facts which made Dick think it 
high time he got things into shape, and his motor service to run- 
ning. It seemed that once upon a time a good road had been made 
from Bailen to Linares, but the road was crossed by a river; and 
when the masonry supports for a bridge had been built, it turned 
out that girders had been forgotten. Somehow, it was nobody’s 
place to jog anybody else’s memory, and there the matter had 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 197 

ended, so long ago that grass and flowers had sprouted among 
the futile stones. 

It appeared the most natural thing in the world to the people 
of Bailen, who were accustomed to ford the river, when they 
wanted to cross, with horses; but though the weather had been 
dry for the last few days, the recent torrents which had fallen in 
the mountains, still swelled the volume of water to such a height 
that it might “ put out the fire in the automobile.” 

I was glad to hear this, because if it would put out our fire, it 
would put out Carmona’s; and as he was prudent in matters 
concerning his car, he would probably have stopped at Andujar; 
thus fate would again bring me near to Monica, despite our 
promise. 

The main reason for going to Linares was because the Cherub 
believed there was a fair hotel, built to accommodate Englishmen 
collected for the lead-mining; therefore it was without regret that 
we turned the Gloria to follow the carretera to Cordoba. 

Our advisers ran after us with a warning to avoid the rough 
cobbles of Bailen by taking the ronda which skirts the town on 
its left. So slowly, in dusk that blossomed blue as the myrtle 
flower, we passed round outside the town, regained the high road, 
leaping at speed into a world of wide, silvery spaces and mystery 
of violet hollows, diving into the deep valley of the swollen river, 
and rejoicing in a hard surface of good macadam for fifteen miles 
or more. 

Thus we arrived at Andujar, the lights of our great acetylene 
lamps (lit before the sky turned from opal to amethyst) prying 
into dark doorways and windows as Rontgen rays pry through 
flesh to bone. 

In the white glare, pretty girls in doorways looked like actresses 
in a costume play, waiting in the wings to “go on.” But no yells 
of a stage mob ever were so realistic as those of the unrehearsed 
band who howled over my poor Gloria as she deposited 
her passengers at the fonda ; and Ropes and I pushed hex 
through a wall of human beings to a stable-garage, where her 


198 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

flywheel gushed a protest of fiery sparks on the high stone step 
of entrance. 

The fonda was passable; but Carmona and his party were not 
there; neither were they anywhere else in Andujar, as we made 
it our business to discover; and we guessed that the grey car must 
after all have ventured to Linares. 

As it had vanished, we were free to start when we chose next 
morning. So we chose an early hour, flying over good roads 
through a land embroidered with the scarlet of poppies, the blue 
of gentian, the pink of clover, and gold of buttercups, stitched in 
with the silver of little running streams. 

“ ‘ Give us bread and give us bulls,’ is the cry of this country,” 
said the Cherub, greeting with joyous glances each feature of his 
loved Andalucia. 

“It sounds like a beef sandwich,” Dick reflected aloud; but 
Pilar reproached him for flippancy. “You mustn’t make jokes 
about bread in Andalucia!” she exclaimed. “And it’s called a 
sin ever to throw away a crumb. Because it’s the gift of Heaven, 
if you drop a bit you must pick it up and apologize by kissing it.” 

“ Why not eat it instead ? ” asked Dick. 

“You can do that afterwards. And if bread’s made with holes 
in it, you must stand the holey side up, because the spirit of God 
entered through the holes to bless you.” 

“ I thought only olives were sacred in Andalucia,” said Dick, 
staring away over enormous tracts of the silver-grey trees grow- 
ing out of copper soil, waving as far as the eye could follow, to 
the floating line of ethereal blue mountains. 

“They’re sacred, too,” assented Pilar. “Did you know, in the 
old days they used to be sold only for gold, gold carried on mule 
back in great bags, and exchanged on the spot, for the trees — 
so many for so much ? We have olives at our place, and they’re 
gathered in such a nice old-fashioned way; papa doesn’t care for 
new ways, even if they make a little more money. It’s pretty to 
watch. I should like you to see it, only — Senor Waring doesn’t 
like old-fashioned things.” 


THE GOODWILL OF MARIQUITA 199 

“ I like making the 4 little more money,’ I’m afraid,” Dick con- 
fessed. 

“ Sometimes I like money too — when I want to buy anything. 
At other times I don’t care. Lately I’ve been saving up. I’ve got 
one thousand nine hundred pesetas.” 

“ Good gracious ! ” laughed Dick, “ are you going to buy a bull- 
farm with such a gigantic sum ? ” 

“ Funny you should have said that. I’m going to buy one bull. 
He’s the only possession of the Duke of Carmona’s that I want, 
and I want him so much that I’ve sacrificed oh, — I can’t re- 
member how many Paris hats, and shoes, and silk petticoats, 
and pretty dresses to get him, with all my own money ! The worst 
of it is, he’ll never know about the hats and things.” 

Dick was looking interested now. 

“ What in the name of goodness will you do with him when you 
get him ? ” he inquired. 

“ Save him,” said the girl. 

“ From what ? ” 

“ From the bull-ring. Oh, he’s a toro bravo , is Vivillo, a heart 
of gold. Not the most famous torero in Spain shall pierce it. I’ve 
loved him for four years, since he was a baby at his mother’s side, 
and Rafael Calmenare used to take me to visit him; loved him 
better even than Corcito, and all this time I’ve been saving up to 
buy him before he’s of the age for a corrida. Now I’ve enough, 
and there aren’t many weeks to waste, for soon he’ll be five; and 
already he has the strength and courage of three bulls, my Vivillo ! 
I long to see him again — long for the day when I can put my 
arms round his great neck, and say, ‘Hermanito, you’re mine!’” 

“Your arms round his neck!” gasped Dick. “A fighting bull! 
You’re joking. Say you mean an Irish bull, and put me out of 
misery.” 

“ He’s a true Spanish grandee of a bull, and my arms have been 
round his neck often,” said Pilarcita. 

“Then he can’t be very fierce.” 

“ He can be terrible. He has nearly killed two men — strangers 


200 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


who teased him, so he meant no harm, poor darling! and they 
daren’t let any except black horses come near him. No Muira 
bull is more savage than he if he’s roused. You know, the Duke 
of Carmona’s bulls are as celebrated as the Muiras themselves - 
But Vivillo has always loved me, and one or two others — me 
best, though — and he’ll eat out of my hand, the great brown 
velvet beast, like a kitten.” 

* How long since he’s seen you ? ” asked Dick. 

“Six weeks.” 

“ I wouldn’t trust his memoiy.” 

“ I trust it as I would my brother’s. You shall see me petting 
him.” 

“ Great Scott ! you won’t let her risk her life with this wild beast, 
will you, Colonel O’Donnel ? ” Dick cried out. 

But the Cherub smiled his placid smile. 

“Don Cipriano calls her Una, because she can tame wild 
beasts,” said he. 

Dick’s face became almost too expressive. If he did not want 
Pilar’s eyes to read his every emotion, I thought he would be wiser 
to put on his motor-mask. 


XXV 


WHAT CORDOBA LACKED 

T HROUGH a flowery field of cloth-of-gold we came, 
while the afternoon was young, into Cordoba — 
“ Kartuba the Important,” lying like a grave entombing 
its dead glory, prone at the foot of tombstone mountains. 
After the dazzle of wild-flowers shining in the sun, and the 
ozone of country breezes, a sudden entrance into the network of 
narrow streets was like being thrown, without a clue, into the 
Minotaur’s dark labyrinth. 

I had thought that no town could have narrower streets than 
Toledo; but the streets of Cordoba were mere slits between 
house-walls. As we scraped through on the car, Dick likened the 
town to a huge white cake divided into slices by a sharp knife, 
but left in shape with only one or two pieces pulled out to loosen 
the mass. 

Still, the stone-paved slits contrived to make pictures; with 
here and there a pair of splendid Moorish doors, a row of ancient 
eastern-patterned windows, or a fairy glimpse of a sunlit patio 
beyond a tunnel of shadow; a fountain spraying jewels, a waving 
of palms and glow of hanging roses. 

“ She’s sure to be here,” I said to myself, as we stopped at last 
before the principal hotel. “ Since the journey’s supposed to be a 
pleasure trip, Carmona’s bound to give his guests time to see the 
sights of Cordoba.” 

But nothing was known of the Duke and his party at the hotel, 
although there was a rumour that an automobile had passed 
through the town in the morning. 

201 


202 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

The Cherub, consulted, was of opinion that if Carmona’s car 
had come, it must have remained. 

“ There’ d be nowhere for them to stop afterwards short of 
Seville,” he said, “ unless Carmona, and that’s near Seville. They 
must be lurking in Cordoba — perhaps at the Marques de Villa- 
blanca’s, who’s a friend of the Duke’s. We shall come across our 
lovely little lady presently, if we get about in the town; in the 
Paseo del Gran Capitan, or the Patio de los Naranjos, or the 
cathedral, or by the ruins of the Alcazar.” 

“ Besides, I thought you’d made up your mind not to worry 
till we got to Seville,” said Dick. 

££ So I had,” I answered . 44 But I have a feeling as if something 
had gone wrong.” 

££ Any reason for the feeling — except the feeling itself ? ” asked 
Dick. 

I shook my head, not caring to mention the letter that might 
have gone astray. “ Nothing I can define.” 

“ Then I guess it’s all right, and you’re developing nerves.” 

££ I know just how he feels,” said Pilar, with a reproachful look 
at Dick, with whom she was at odds since the episode of the bull. 
££ There was an expression in Lady Monica’s eyes, wasn’t there, 
at Manzanares, as if she were sad? Oh, I saw it; and they 
wouldn’t let me get within whispering distance of her, or 
I should have found out what it meant. I had the idea that 
they were 'particularly anxious to keep me away, and I won- 
dered if there were any new reason. I’m not surprised that Don 
Ramon is worried. One can see that Senor Waring’s never been 
in love ! ” 

££ Oh, haven’t I?” exclaimed Dick; which, of course made 
matters worse; and to mend them, he went on blundering. 
££ What do you know about the symptoms ? ” 

££ Girls are born knowing things it takes men years to learn,” 
said Pilar. 

It did not allay my anxiety that she should have noticed what 
I had noticed. But I clung to the Cherub’s assurance, hoping, 


WHAT CORDOBA LACKED 203 

when we had set out on our explorations, to meet her, to see her 
face light up with the radiance I knew. 

But there were no strangers save ourselves, and a few wander- 
ing Americans under the palms and orange trees of the paseo 
dedicated to the memory of El Gran Capitan. 

We wandered — Pilar keeping at my side, and leaving Dick to 
her father — from gate to gate outside the Mosque-Cathedral 
which once made Cordoba the Mecca of Europe; gazing up at 
the tremendous mass of honey-coloured masonry rising like a 
vast fortress from its buttresses of stone; lingering under the bell- 
tower of the Puerta del Perdon because Pilar “felt as if some- 
thing would happen there.” But nothing did happen; and we 
went to face the blighting of renewed hopes in the Court of 
Oranges, whose melancholy charm and sensuous perfume was 
sad as the song of a nightingale when summer is dying. 

She was not there; nor could we find her in the marble forest 
of the pillared cathedral, though, while Dick and Pilar made up 
their differences over the jewelled mosaics, I searched for her. 

“I tell you, Ramon, there’s some satisfaction in feeling that 
you’re looking at the best things the world’s got to show,” said 
Dick, almost in my ear, “and there are lots of them in your 
country, especially in Cordoba, though I suppose the Moors 
would weep to see it now. But you don’t seem to be enjoying 
them, in spite of risking such a lot to come where they are.” 

I didn’t remind him that the risk I ran was for the one best 
thing in all the world, which was only temporarily in my country, 
and that my depression came because it was not at the moment 
visible. But Pilar did not need reminding, and in the way of 
sweet women, tried to “keep my mind occupied” by talking 
history and legend, confusing them deliciously, and defending 
her stories of beautiful Egilona and fair Florinda by saying that, 
anyhow, nobody cared whether they were true or not. Besides, 
what was history, now that dull people were continually discover- 
ing that none of the best bits had ever happened ? 

“ I choose to believe in Florinda,” she cried, “ and all the other 

L 


204 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


beautiful women who influenced kings, and made wars, and 
upset countries. Without them and their love-stories, history 
would be like faded tapestry without gold threads.” 

So Dick ceased to argue, and in silence we left the gem-like 
perfection of the third Mihrab, to wander once more through the 
wilderness of gleaming columns that were now like over-arching 
trees, now like falling fountains. 

No dusky vista out of those many changing ones framed the 
figure I longed to see; and when we had left the cathedral and 
climbed to the gardens and towers where stood once the Alcazar 
of Gothic and Moorish glories, it was the same story of disap- 
pointment. Only the Americans we had seen in the paseo were 
there, more interested than I in such fragments as they could 
catch of Pilar’s tales. Dungeons where Theodofredo had been 
blinded, and Witica the wicked had paid for his crimes; vanished 
halls where Rodrigo reigned and loved before the dark day be- 
side the Guadalete lost the crown for him and Christendom; 
what did they hold of interest since the garden of lilacs and roses 
which covered their ruins was empty of one Presence ? 

When we had seen everything, I left my friends in the hall of 
the hotel choosing curios from glass cases, and went out again in 
search of news concerning the automobile which had passed in 
the morning. 

Presumably it had attracted a crowd, yet no one seemed to 
know anything of it until at last, just as I was giving up hope, I 
met an old man who had seen a large grey motor-car at the rail- 
way station. A few minutes later, I had solved the mysterv of the 
Lecomte’s disappearance. It had arrived early; its passengers 
had been conducted round Cordoba in the smallest possible time 
by Carmona; it had then been driven to the station; and with its 
late occupants had gone to Seville by the same train. 

There might have been several motives for this move. The car 
might have been partially disabled, not having been properly 
prepared at Manzanares ; or Carmona might have determined to 
thwart the destiny which so far had kept me near him. I was 


WHAT CORDOBA LACKED 205 

inclined to accept the latter theory, and it did not tend to pro- 
mote my peace of mind. 

I was glad to hear, however, that the train was not due at 
Seville until late that evening. If we made an early start next day, 
it was not likely that the situation could be much changed before 
I arrived, free of obligations to the Duchess. 

Of course, said Pilar, before I had time to ask, they would be 
ready to start early, oh, very early. It would be beautiful to be 
in the country before the sun had drunk up the dew on the grass, 
and withered the roses of dawn in the clouds. There was no fear 
of cold now that we were in dear Andalucia. Yes! we would 
have coffee at six, and leave at half-past. 

I should not have dared suggest such a trial of moral courage, 
but I accepted the sacrifice; so the roses of morning which Pilar 
loved still bloomed in the garden of the sky, and trailed their 
reflection in the Guadalquivir, as we rolled over the old bridge 
and past the white, Moorish hills. 

A morning in Paradise could scarcely be more beautiful; and 
the pinky-purple blossoms of the alamo shimmering in a rosy 
mist against dark cypress trees, or mingling with the white lace 
of hawthorn was a colour-symphony of Spring. 

Dignified country houses no longer raised brown-tiled roofs 
from among groves of olives; but an illimitable sea of waving 
downs lay bathed in the amber light of Spain. Then, olive woods 
again, with a foam of field-flowers spraying their gnarled feet, 
hedges of sweetbrier, tangled with tall, wild lilacs, and blossom- 
ing thorn. Beyond, high hills up which the Gloria stormed boldly, 
frightening the horses of a troop of laughing soldiers who rode 
without saddles; over stony roads, mere rough tracks drawn 
through meadows, where bulls grazed, and bellowed at the auto- 
mobile; thus to a village which first showed itself like a white 
crown on a hilltop, and proved to be inhabited by women and 
children of surpassing beauty. Never were such eyes as those 
which looked from the faces in the quick-gathering crowd; eyes 
like black wells with fallen stars in their depths. 


l 


206 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Peasant houses by the wayside had thatched roofs, grey and 
glistening as silver plush; and outside ovens like huge cups turned 
upside down. The fields were gay with flowers ; the distance float- 
ed in waves of azure gauze which touched the sky. 

On we swept, as though to find the joining place, but found 
only Ecija, the Town of the Seven Brigands, with its grand bridge 
and pearl-white Moorish mills, in the yellow, swift-running 
Genii. 

Kings had been lodged behind those brass-nailed doors and 
wrought-iron balconies, the Cherub said ; and malefactors famed 
in history and ballad had swung from that tall gallows which 
caught the eye before Ecija’s eight church towers. There had 
been famous fighting, too, by the river bank; but now the place 
slept, dreaming of peace, and the whirr of the mill-wheels sound- 
ed as comforting as the “ chum-chum ” of a motor that runs by 
night. 

So we flashed out of the Province of Cordoba into the Province 
of Seville, and tall, slender palms, rearing feathered heads among 
walnut trees and oaks, were signposts pointing south. It was early 
in April, but the air was the air of an English June, and I wonder- 
ed to see men muffled in long capas. “ They do it to keep out the 
sun, as in the north to keep out the wind,” explained Pilar; but 
she only laughed when Dick asked why they shaved their 
donkeys’ backs, why they put red and yellow muzzles on their 
donkeys’ mouths, why they always carried plaid “ railway rugs ” 
on their beasts’ backs or their own, and why their trousers and 
leggings were made in one piece ? 

Beyond the olives, black clumps of umbrella pines flung ink- 
blots against the sky, and a purple carpet of budding heather 
was tom apart to let the road pass through. It was ideal motor- 
country, and Dick recalled with sneers the sixty horse-power 
man in Biarritz, who had feared the experiment. 

“ The way is to do what you want to do, and find out as you go 
along whether it can be done or not,” he soliloquized. 

I wonder if he were thinking of another difficult road, not to be 


WHAT CORDOBA LACKED 


207 


travelled by motors — a road where perhaps Don Cipriano al- 
ready knew the way. 

Larks sprang skyward from beds of wild flowers as we fled by, 
little fountains of music; tall cranes flew out of screening bushes 
beside bright streams; and blurring the distance before us, a 
mist of rain floated like a veil blown across the face of Spring. 

In sight of Carmona’s splendid walls and ruined castle, the 
rain caught us ; and for Pilar’s sake we made the car cosey by 
fastening down the front glass and filling in the space with drawn 
canvas curtains. 

After this our fleeting glimpses of pine and palm and olive 
were dimmed as we bowled along a sandy road, yellow as beaten 
gold. Now and again a patch of purple blossom burning through 
the mist sang a loud, exultant note of spring and love; and pretty 
orange-pickers, in men’s jackets and brown trousers, warbled of 
the same theme in that soft Andaluza which is beyond all other 
languages of passion. 

The colour, and the music, and the day went to my head. I 
knew that I was young, and I wanted my chance of happiness — 
wanted it so much that I felt I could kill a man who dared try to 
snatch it. 


XXVI 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 

N OW I’ve something serious to say, Don Ramon, ” 
began the Cherub, when we had passed the first 
pink-and-white house which marked the suburbs of 
Seville. “ You mustn’t go to an hotel here. It would 
be dangerous. You must be our guest; and Senor Waring, too. 
I feel now as if our little play were true, and you were my son ; 
while as for Senor Waring, we might have known him for 
years, might we not, Pilarcita ? ” 

“ Of course. For my part, I’m ready to adopt him for a brother, 
too,” replied Pilar. 

I covered Dick’s recoil at this blow by thanking the Cherub. 
He was more than kind, I said, but we couldn’t think of — 

‘‘You will not think of disappointing us,” broke in the dear 
brown fellow. “ Could you have imagined that our only reason 
is to keep you out of danger? No. We’re not so unselfish. We 
want you. Partings will come soon enough. We must have you 
with us, under our roof, at our table, as long as we can. Now 
you understand, you will say ‘yes.’ ” 

“ In my country, ” said Dick, as a broad hint to me, “ when 
we tell people we want them to visit us, we mean it; and I guess 
Colonel O’Donnel and Miss O’Donnel are the same sort. ” 

Of course I wanted to say yes; and, of course, after this, I did 
say yes without further parleying. 

“ Now begins the most critical time in this adventure of yours. 
Don Ramon,” the Cherub went on. “You see, as our place is 
only five miles outside Seville, we know many people; and 

208 


209 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 

though Carmona is seldom there with his mother, he certainly 
has acquaintances, and some of them may be ours too. You have 
travelled since Burgos as my son, though you wore his uniform 
only for two days; but you may be sure Carmona has been 
looking forward to shaking you off, once and for all, if you should 
venture to Seville to see the show of Semana Santa as other 
tourists see it. ” 

“ He perhaps thinks that, because of our promise — which 
we’ve kept — he’s shaken Ramon off already, ” said Dick. 

“He knows better. The trick answered for a few hours; but 
his car broke down, and he had to accept our help. He said then 
that fate was against him; I heard it; and Carmona’s a man to 
be actually superstitious about you, now. So far, he’s kept the 
little senorita out of touch with you, but that’s nearly all he has 
accomplished. ” 

“ Thanks to you both, ” I cut in. “ If it hadn’t been for your 
help, I should have been ‘pinched,’ and hustled over the border 
long ago. I see that now; and though I should have come back 
and begun the chase again somehow, it would have been a 
thousand times more difficult. ” 

“No use bothering about what might have happened,” 
laughed Pilar. “ Let’s think of what did happen — and what 
will. ” 

“Nevertheless,” said I, “the thought’s often in my mind; 
what if we kad missed Colonel and Miss O’Donnel at Burgos ?” 

Dick chuckled ; and when Pilar wanted to know what amused 
him, asked my permissiom to tell. I gave him leave; and with a 
memory for detail whieh I could have spared, to say nothing of 
an attempt at mimicry, he repeated, word for word, my ob- 
jections to meeting the Irish friends of Angele de la Mole. 

We were so intimate now that my point of view before knowing 
them did seem particularly comic, and Dick made the most of it. 

“Well, think what we have to thank you for!” exclaimed 
Pilar; “this delightful trip. If it hadn’t been for you, Cristobal 
would be here instead of with Angele in Biarritz. ” 


210 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“ Come back to common sense, ” implored the Cherub, “ and 
help me plan for the Cristobal who is here. If he sits in our box 
for the processions, Carmona will see him and say to some 
officious person, very different from Rafael Calmenare, ‘who 
is that young man with the O’Donnels ? ’ And the officious 
person will answer, T never saw him in my life.’ ‘Ah, ’ the Duke 
will exclaim, ‘ isn’t he Cristobal O’Donnel ?’ ‘Not at all, ’ will 
come the reply ; and Carmona will proceed to make trouble. ” 

“ For you as well as for me; that’s the worst of it, ” said I. 

“We care nothing for that. It’s of you we think,” said the 
Cherub. And because I knew it was true, more than ever it 
became my duty to think of him and his. 

“ Of course I don’t want to lose any chance of seeing Monica, ” 
I said; “but on the days of the processions I shall walk about 
in the crowd and keep out of Carmona’s way. ” 

“ As for us, ” said Pilar, “ we’ll try for a box near the Duke’s — 
though there may be nothing left, as the King’s to be here and 
there’s sure to be a crowd. I’ll do my best to whisper to Lady 
Monica, or send her a note, or speak with my eyes if no more. ” 

“You know how I depend on you,” I answered. “She may 
give you a letter, an answer to one which I hope she got at 
Manzanares. ” 

“ I’ll be ready for the lightest hint, ” said Pilar. “ If she has 
a note, she’ll show it behind her fan. Then I’ll motion her to 
crumple it up and throw it on the floor as she goes out. If you 
don’t show yourselves in our society, the Duke will think per- 
haps that after all he’s safe. ” 

“No. We mustn’t count on any such thing,” broke in her 
father. “If he can’t get rid of you in one way, he’ll try another; 
and there’s an old saying which is still true : anything can happen 
in Spain, especially in the south. Carmona will be watching 
for you. You must be prepared for that. ” 

“I shall be,” I said. 

“We’ll all be,” Pilar finished. “Oh, there’s the old Roman 
aqueduct! Isn’t it splendid; and strong as if it had been built 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 211 

yesterday instead of in the days before the Goths. I love Seville — 
love every brick and stone of it, from the ruins of the Moorish 
wall and the Torre del Oro, and the glorious cathedral, to the 
old house in the Calle del Candilejo, where the witch- woman 
looked out and saw King Don Pedro fighting his duel. I don’t 
believe any other place could make up to me for Seville. ” 

By the side of the two-thousand-years-old-aqueduct ran a 
modem electric tramway ; and one of the graceful arches made 
by Roman hands had been widened to let pass the railway line 
for Madrid. Farther on, Moorish houses with lofty miradors and 
beautiful capped windows were tucked between ugly new 
buildings, and across the shaded avenue of a green park was 
flung an extraordinary four- winged spiral staircase of iron. I 
groaned at the monstrosity, saying that Pedro himself had never 
perpetrated an act more cruel ; and the Cherub excused it sadly, 
by saying that it was convenient for the crowds to pass from one 
side of the street to the other, as I should see if I stayed beyond 
the Semana Santa for the jeria. 

‘‘Look at the Giralda, and you’ll forget the iron bridge, ’* 
said Pilar. My eyes followed hers, and lit like winging birds 
upon a beautiful tower soaring delicately against the sky. So 
light, so fragile in effect was it, I felt that it might lean upon a 
cloud. In the golden light of afternoon the little pillars of old 
marble, the carved lozenges of stone, the arches of the horseshoe 
windows, the dainty carvings of the balconies, and all the 
marvellous ornamentation that broke the square surfaces of the 
tower, were rosy as if with reflections from a sunset sky. It’s 
beauty was a Moorish poem in brick-work, such as no other 
hands save Moorish hands have ever made. 

I looked back until I lost sight of the Giralda, except the 
glittering figure of Faith on the top (strange symbol for a weather- 
vane), while threading through tortuous streets, mere strips of 
pavement veiled with blue shadow, and walled with secretive, 
flat-fronted houses, old and new, pearly with fresh whitewash, 
or painted pale lemon, faded orange, or green ethereal as the 


212 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


tints of seaweed. Even at first sight the quaint town was singu- 
larly lovable, in its mingling of simplicity and mystery, and as 
Spanish in this mixture as in all things else. 

The tall, straight palms, with their tufted heads like falling 
fountains, clear against the sky, were Oriental, and seemed 
scarcely kin to the palms of Italy and Southern France. Nor 
were the narrow streets, through which we pounded over cobbles, 
like the narrow streets of Italian towns. They were Spanish; 
inexplicably but wholly Spanish, although Dick was not sure 
they did not recall bits of Venice, 44 just as you turn away from 
St. Mark’s. ” 

It was odd that shops so small could be so gay and attractive 
as these with their rows of painted fans, their draped mantillas, 
their bright sashes, foolish little tambourines, castanets tied with 
rosettes of ribbon in Spanish colours; their curious and vivid 
antique jewelry; their sombreros cordobeses displayed in the same 
windows with silk hats from Bond Street; their flaming flowers, 
Moorish pottery, old lace, and cabinets of inlaid ebony and silver. 
And I knew that I should learn to love the sounds of Seville 
better than the sounds of London or other cities I had seen. 

Haunting sounds they were, these noises of a closely peopled 
old town, characteristic as those of Naples, not so strident as in 
Madrid; above all, the sound of bells, ringing, booming, chiming, 
so continuously that soon they would affect the senses like a 
heavy perfume always present. One would cease to hear them, 
and be startled only if their clamouring tongues were silenced. 

In the streets, where the processions of Semana Santa would 
pass, already hundreds of rush-bottomed chairs were ranged 
in front of houses and shops, piled in confusion, which would be 
reduced to order for to-morrow, Palm Sunday. Beyond, in the 
Plaza de la Constitution — scene in old days of the bull-fight 
and auto-da-fe, — many men were busy putting the last touches 
on the crimson velvet and gold draperies of the royal box, 
pounding barriers into place in the tribune in front of the silver- 
hke chasing of the Casa del Ayuntamiento’s Plateresque facade. 


215 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 

or arranging row after row of chairs in the open space opposite, 
leaving an aisle for the procession to pass between. 

“Now there is something to do before we drive home to the 
Cortijo de Santa Rufina, ” said the Cherub. “ I must see about 
getting a box in the tribune for the week; I must find out 
whether Carmona did come in by train last night. Don Ramon 
hasn’t suggested this plan, but I think he would not dislike it. ” 
“ I meant to drop out of the car, to see what I could learn my- 
self, and join you afterwards at home, ” I said. “ But you can 
get hold of things better than I, a stranger, can. ” 

“ You must remain a stranger, ” he supplemented my words. 
“If your chauffeur will stop at the top of this narrow street, 
I’ll walk down it a few doors to my club, and ask for the latest 
news. Carmona doesn’t honour his house in Seville too often 
with his presence, though his mother is there every season, and 
his arrival will be the talk of the club. I can take steps there, 
too, about a box for the show. I won’t keep you long; but you’d 
better wait at the Cafe Perla. Pilar can’t go there without me. 
Oh, you may smile; but remember we’re in Spain. She must 
wait for me at the house of a friend. ” 

The Cherub’s idea of a “little while” and a “long while” 
were always rather vague, and apt to dovetail confusingly one 
into another; but knowing what it was his aim to accomplish, 
I did not grudge the fifty minutes before his ample form and 
smiling face appeared in the doorway of the cafe. 

“ It’s all right, ” were his first words. “ I felt my luck wouldn’t 
desert me. Who do you suppose ” — and he turned to Pilar, 
who had come on with him — “ was the first man I ran across ? 
No other than Don Esteban Villaroya. ” 

Pilar looked a little frightened. “But he’s a friend of the 
Duke’s. Won’t that make it awkward ? ” 

“No; all the better. I told him Cristobal and my daughter 
and I had motored from Burgos with an American friend, an 
important writer for the papers, who was going to pay us a 
visit. Not an untrue word to trouble my confessor with. Don 


214 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


Esteban may or may not mention our meeting to Carmona when 
he dines with him this evening. ” 

“Dines with him? Oh, I hope that won’t make mischief.” 
“It won’t. Carmona arrived late last night, with his mother 
and guests. It seems preparations have been going on in the 
house for the past fortnight; and the first thing Carmona and his 
mother did was to send out half a dozen invitations for dinner 
this evening. Afterwards, he managed, probably through royal 
influence, to get permission from the Governor to take the party 
into the Alcazar by moonlight, and he’s going to have coloured 
illuminations, music, and Spanish dances given by professionals 
in the costumes of different provinces. A grand idea, Don Esteban 
thinks. ” 

“ But why is he doing it ? ” asked Pilar, thoughtfully. “ Maria 
purisima! It isn’t as if he were an impulsive or hospitable man, 
fond of getting up impromptu entertainments. This is done in a 
hurry. What can be his object ? for he always has an object. ” 

“To amuse Lady Monica, who’s not pleased with him so 
far,” explained the Cherub. “And as he’s a good Catholic, at 
least in appearance, to-night or the night after will be his last 
chance to entertain till Semana Santa is over. ” 

“Somehow, I don’t feel that’s reason enough,” said Pilar, 
looking so troubled that I felt new stirrings of anxiety, and must 
have shown it; for Pilar exclaimed that she was a “ little beast” 
to worry me. 

“You haven’t worried me,” I protested. “Still, I think I’ll 
go to that entertainment at the Alcazar. ” 

Pilar and her father stared. “ I see what you mean, ” said the 
girl. “You hope to walk in and meet Lady Monica. But you 
can’t, because the Alcazar’s closed to the public after sunset. 
It will only be open for the Duke as a favour, because he’s rich 
and important, and care will be taken that no outsider slips in. ” 
“ If there should be one more guitarist than he hired, do you 
think it would be noticed ?” I asked, smiling. 

Pilar clapped her hands. You’re a true lover, Don Ramon, ” 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 21 5 

she exclaimed. “Ay de mi! Nobody will ever love a little dark 
thing like myself, as Lady Monica is loved. I must be satisfied 
with the affections of my relations, and a few others, I suppose. ” 
Great eyes lifted sadly ceiling- ward as she spoke, then cast down 
with distracting play of long curled lashes. Spanish to her finger 
tips, this Maria del Pilar Ines, despite her Irish quickness. 
Poor Dick ! 

“ You believe I could manage it, then ? ” 

“I believe you will. Senor Waring has told me about the 
masked ball, and how you played Romeo to somebody’s Juliet. ” 

44 The difficulty will be to get hold of the impresario. ” 

Pilar looked at her watch. “They’ll know at the Alcazar 
who’s been engaged. There’s an hour and a half yet before 
closing time. ” 

44 What if you and I take a stroll through ? ” suggested Dick. 

44 We’ll all take a stroll through, ” said Pilar, “ and papa shall 
find out. You know, he can always make everybody tell him 
anything in five minutes. Even Cristobal and I have never been 
able to keep a secret from him. If I’d planned to elope, he would 
only have to whisper and smile, for me to tell all, even if it meant 
my going into a convent directly after. ” 

44 Yes, we will all go to the Alcazar now, or it will be too late, ” 
said the Cherub, with an indulgent twinkle at his spoiled 
daughter. 

The car took us to the gate of the Alcazar, a gate of that 
unsuggestive Moorish simplicity which purposely hid all splen- 
dours of decoration from any save favoured eyes. The guardian 
knew and evidently respected Colonel O’Donnel; but with 
apologies which comprehended the whole party, he regretted 
that he could not let us in. The King w^as to arrive in a few days, 
returning from his yachting trip to the Canaries, and would live 
in the Alcazar which was being got ready for him. From now 
until the day after his departure, the Alcazar was to be closed 
to the public. 

This was just, and as it should be, admitted the Cherub; but 


216 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


we were not the public. We were special ones, even as special 
as the Duke of Carmona who would entertain his friends there 
that evening. Surely the guardian must know that the O’Donnel 
family was on terms of friendship with the Governor of the 
Alcazar, who would suffer severe pains of the heart if he heard 
that such visitors had been turned away. Thus the good Cherub 
continued to whisper. And whether or no coin changed hands 
I cannot tell; but certain it is that in less than the five minutes 
allowed by Pilar for the working of her father’s fascinations, 
we were inside the forbidden precincts, accompanied by a lamb- 
like attendant. 

It was from him that we must learn what we wished to know; 
but it would be unwise to betray a premature thirst for informa- 
tion on any subject save the history or beauties of the Alcazar. 
Asking a question now and then of our guide, we wandered from 
patio to patio , from room to room of that wonderful royal 
dwelling once called “ the house of Caesar. ” Many a rude shock 
and vicissitude had it sustained when Goths fought for it with 
Romans, when Moors seized it from Christians, when Christians 
won it back, and conducted themselves within its jewelled walls 
in ways unworthy of their faith and boasted chivalry; yet the 
beauties which Pedro the Cruel restored in admiring imitation 
of the Alhambra, glowed still with undimmed splendour, in the 
sunshine of this twentieth century afternoon. 

If I had not been preoccupied by my own private and ex- 
tremely modem anxieties, I should have let imagination work 
the spell it longed to work, and make of me some humble 
character gliding shadow-like, but ever observant, through tale 
after tale of the “Arabian Nights.” In just such a palace as this 
had the Seven Calenders lost each an eye; behind any one of these 
fretted arches might one come upon a king, half man, half jet- 
black marble. The most captious of genies could have found no 
fault with the Hall of the Ambassadors save the absence of the 
roc’s egg; and despite my impatience the storied enchantment 
of the place soon had me in its grip. 


IN THE PALACE OF THE KINGS 


217 


Scheherezade, I said to myself, could have invented no tales 
to surpass in thrilling interest the scenes which had been enacted 
here. The drama of widowed Egilona and her handsome Moorish 
prince, ruined by her love; the tragedy of Abu Said, done to 
death by Pedro for the sake of his “fair ruby, great as a racket 
ball, ” and the store of gems for which men still search secretly 
in hidden nooks of the Alcazar; the murder of the young Master 
of Santiago, who came to Pedro as an honoured guest; the love 
story of Maria de Padilla, whose spirit, the guardian whispered, 
could be seen to this day flitting in moonlight and shadow 
along her favourite garden walks, or trailing white robes through 
rooms which had been hers. 

“ Perhaps, as the moon is full, Maria will appear to-night in 
the garden to the Duke of Carmona and his guests, ” said Pilar; 
and I knew from this preface that our probation was at an end. 

The attendant laughed. “Perhaps,” he replied; “but I think 
there will be too much noise to please her. The Duke has en- 
gaged a troupe of dancers and guitarists to entertain his friends. ” 

“No doubt King Don Pedro used to amuse his in the same 
way,” remarked the Cherub, “employing the forerunners of 
Ramiro Olivero and his school maybe. ” 

“ It is Ramiro Olivero who performs to-night, ” said the atten- 
dant, playing into our hands. 

“ Of course ! He is the favoured one in such affairs, ” assented 
the Cherub. “ It ought to be a pretty entertainment, and interest- 
ing to the Duke’s English guests. It will be somewhere in the 
gardens ? ” 

“ In the lower garden of the Moorish kiosk, ” was the unsus- 
pecting reply. 

Pilar looked at me, and her eyes said, “ The key you wanted 
is in your hand. ” 


XXVII 


MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN 

W HEN the Cherub dies and is gathered to his Irish 
and Spanish fathers (far distant be the day!) he 
will not know a happy moment in Paradise unless 
he is doing something ingenuously kind for some- 
body. It is my conviction that he will have to be made a 
guardian angel ; and I mentioned this theory to him as he took 
me to the house of Ramiro Olivero, ex-bull-fighter, present pro- 
fessor of Spanish dancing. 

The others were waiting in the car, as, according to the 
Cherub’s plan of campaign, he and I were to visit Olivero alone. 

We climbed many stairs to the flat where the celebrated man 
lived and conducted his school for dancing. He it was who came 
to the door, and it was a sight worth seeing to watch his some- 
what hard, middle-aged features relax in response to cherubic 
murmurings. 

Colonel O’Donnel remembered Senor Olivero since the time 
when he was a banderillero; oh, incomparably the most brilliant 
banderillero of his day. Then, afterwards, what triumphs as a 
torero ! Ah, that was something for an old admirer to remember. 
Not to regret, naturally, since the senor was as great an artist in 
his present profession as in that doubtless sacrificed to family 
affections. 

This gentleman whom he (Colonel O’Donnel) now ventured 
to introduce was from England, travelling with a friend from 
the States who wrote articles on Spain for well-known journals. 
The American could speak no Spanish, but with the gentleman 

21S 


219 


MOONLIGHT IN TIIE GARDEN 

from England it was like the native tongue. Therefore it was he 
who most often attended important ceremonies, and made notes 
for his friend to work up into articles. This entertainment in 
which Senor Olivero was assisting the Duke of Carmona, for 
instance; it would be all that was characteristic of Spain, as well 
as beautiful. If the senor would allow the gentleman from Eng- 
land to enter the Alcazar as one of his guitarists, an article could 
be made for the great American newspapers which would not 
only be a credit to the journalist, but would widely advertise the 
skill of Senor Olivero and his pupils. 

If every man has his price, it was not derogatory to his merits 
that these pearls of flattery should be the price which bought 
Olivero. Not a penny was to be paid for the favour. When the 
word “money” was hinted, rather than spoken, the ex-hero of 
the bull-ring waved it away with a superb gesture. Rut he would 
be glad to see the articles when they appeared; and this was 
promised, for Dick must write them for the neglected papers he 
was supposed to represent. 

In return for the promise (and the compliments), it was ar- 
ranged that I should present myself at his house about ten o’clock 
(the dance was timed to begin at 10.45), there dress for my part, 
and be furnished with a guitar. Once inside the Alcazar I need 
not play upon the instrument; but, said Olivero, it was well 
that I should be able to do so if called upon. My costume was to 
be a short chulo jacket and tight-hipped, loose-legged grey 
trousers, with a low-collared, unstarched shirt, and a broad- 
brimmed grey sombrero de Cordoba. With this hat, well tipped 
over my eyes, in moonlight or even spasmodic rose-and-gold 
bursts of coloured fire, recognition would be impossible at a dis- 
tance; and I meant to keep at a distance from all the Duke’s 
party — with one exception. 

By the time the plan was mapped out, it was nearly seven 
o’clock, but the O’Donnels still urged me to dine at the Cortijo 
de Santa Rufina. The Gloria would eat up the six miles distance 
in ten minutes; I could bathe and dress before 8.15, when dinner 


220 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

would be ready (a telegram had been sent to the servants from 
Cordoba), and rested and refreshed, I could start for Seville in 
the car again at half-past nine. 

So we flashed out across the Guadalquivir, by way of the bridge 
of Isabel Segunda, into that strange suburb which gave Trajan 
birth, and my family their name; ancient Trajana, now Triana, 
town of potters, picadores, and gypsies. 

Dark-browed boys played toreros to our car as bull, their coats 
muletas , sticks their banderillas , yelling and springing lithely 
aside as the enemy rushed on them. Girls, handsome as Carmen, 
flung us flowers, staring boldly eye to eye; and this was my wel- 
come to the place near which the Casa Trianas had once lived 
and thought themselves great! 

Almost could I have seen the towers of the old house — now 
the property of the King — as we passed into open country again ; 
but I did not speak, nor did the others, though the thought in my 
mind must have been in Pilar’s and Colonel O’Donnel’s. 

Five miles more, through falling dusk and sweet country scents 
and we turned off the main road into another, gleaming white as 
a path of snow in the opal twilight. Then, in a wide-reaching 
plantation of olives, spraying silver on a ruddy soil where glim- 
mered irrigation tanks and grinding mills, we came upon a large, 
irregular clump of white buildings grouped together, and made 
one by a high wall with an open belfry at one comer. 

“Here we are at home!” exclaimed the Cherub with a con- 
tented sigh, as he gently touched Ropes’ shoulder. “ Welcome, 
dear friends, to the Cortijo de Santa Rufina. It, and all within its 
walls, is at your disposition.” 

We drove in through a wide gate in the outer wall, where there 
was a clamour of greeting from the steward, many servants, and 
more dogs, dogs of all races, who selected Pilar for their wildest 
demonstrations. In a second she was out of the car, and half 
drowned in a wave of tumultuous doghood. Laughing, shaking 
hands with the servants, patting or suppressing greyhounds, 
collies, setters, retrievers, she had never seemed so charming. 


MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN 221 

This was the real Pilar — Pilar at home; the Pilar it would be 
next to impossible to uproot from such associations. Again, poor 
Dick! And now he no longer tried to hide the loving admiration 
in his eyes. I think he would even have done his best to fondle a 
wild bull or two of her acquaintance had they been among the 
friends who gave her welcome. 

Away boomed the Gloria to the stables — the sole garage at 
the Cortijo — while we were bidden through the Moorish en- 
trance-porch and wrought-iron cancela into a patio surrounded 
on all sides by an arcade, roofed with green and brown tiling. The 
supporting pillars were of pale pink brick, not marble, and the 
pavement was of brick also, interset with a pattern of small blue 
tiles. But the tiles were old and good ; from a carved stone basin 
in the middle of the court sprang the tall crystal stem of a foun- 
tain, blossoming into diamonds; pearly arum lilies, pink azaleas, 
and pale green hydrangeas bloomed in huge white and blue and 
yellow pots from Triana, of the same beautiful shapes made 
before Santa Justa and Santa Rufina knew they were saints, and 
undertook to keep the Giralda from falling. 

The windows leading into the rooms surrounding the patio 
were large as doors, and all were hospitably open, giving through 
thin curtains glimpses of old furniture carefully grouped to 
please a woman’s dainty taste. Pilar again — always Pilar ! Here 
were her lares and penates; and she was a goddess among lesser 
household gods. I knew that it would be safer for Dick to say a 
hasty good-bye upon the threshold; but I knew also that no power 
on earth could force him to do it. 

“ This is only a farm, you know,” said the girl, meekly, all the 
while dimpling with pride in her home and what she had made 
it; “ for we are only farmers, aren’t we, Papa.” 

Our rooms — Dick’s and mine — were not overstocked with 
furniture ; but there were two or three things for which an anti- 
quary would have pawned his soul. On one side, our windows 
looked upon the patio ; on the other, we gazed through iron bars 
over olives and meadows where grain was green. There was no 


222 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

sound save the tinkling rain of the fountain, and now and then 
the sleepy note of a bird, or a far-away lowing of cattle — per- 
haps the welcoming bellow of Vivillo, the brown bull which was 
the sole possession of Carmona coveted by Pilar. 

The two servants who waited at dinner were wreathed in smiles 
at seeing again their master and mistress; and their occasional 
furtive glances of interest in my direction made me wonder if 
they had not received mysterious instructions as to how they must 
answer any questions concerning me. But, whatever those in- 
structions might be, I was sure they would be loyally carried out; 
for the Cherub is a man servants would obey through torture 
until death, if these days were as the old. 

At half-past nine Ropes was ready to spin me back into Seville. 
We arrived earlier than need be; and having made an appoint- 
ment to meet at a quiet hotel, where Ropes would await me from 
half-past eleven till half-past twelve, I decided to walk past Car- 
mona’s house and reconnoitre. 

I knew where to find it, in the Calle de las Duenas ; but if I had 
hoped for a tell-tale glimpse within, as in a London or Parisian 
mansion, I was disappointed. Once a Moorish palace, it showed 
a closed, secretive front to the narrow street. But I knew, for I 
had read, that within there were six courtyards, ninety marble 
pillars, half a dozen fountains, a garden of orange and magnolia 
trees, with myrtle hedges clipped to represent the ducal arms; 
that there were vast treasures of statuary, pictures by Velasquez, 
Murillo, and Alonso Cano; gold-inlaid plate armour; tapestry 
from the Netherlands not to be surpassed at the Royal Palace at 
Madrid. 

I knew that these splendours would loom large in the eyes of 
Lady Vale- A von, and might count for something even with Mon- 
ica, who confessed to a love of all things beautiful. I thought of the 
famous Carmona jewels, which would belong to the wife of the 
Duke, while she lived, as they had belonged to generations of 
Duchesses. Above all, I thought of the incomparable Blanca 
Laguna pearl and its glistening maids of honour, which, by this 


MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN 223 

time perhaps, had been shown to Monica. There were few girls 
in Spain, or in the world, I remembered hearing my mother say, 
who could resist that pearl as a bride. And now it was offered to 
Monica, a penniless girl of eighteen, whose beauty formed her 
sole dowry. 

There, behind the cold reserve of those white walls with the 
shut, brass-studded doors and barred windows, she was being 
feted by the Duke, dining on gold plate, in a tapestried room 
fragrant with orange flowers. I could see the pictures. I could see 
the look in Carmona’s eyes as they turned to her, saying, “ all 
this is yours if you will have it.” And Carmona’s eyes were hand- 
some eyes; I had to admit that, in justice. 

Would she hold true to me — true to a man with no palaces, 
no lands, no priceless pearls, and only half as many hundreds a 
year as her other lover had thousands? Would she be able to 
resist her mother, now that mother had seen with her own eyes 
now much there was to fight for and to win ? 

The question would come. But with it came a vision of Monica 
herself, pure and sweet as beautiful, loyal and loving as she was 
lovely. And I said to myself, “ Yes, she will be true.” 

It was with the clear ringing of these words in my mind that I 
turned my back upon the house of Carmona. 

Once I had passed into the Alcazar with Olivero’s band of 
dancers and guitarists I was free to do as I pleased. And I pleased 
to escape from my laughing, chattering companions before the 
arrival of the Duke and his guests, and the illuminations in their 
honour. There was no better place to wait and watch for the 
opportunity I wanted, than in the mock-Moorish kiosk at the 
end of the lower garden. From there I could see without being 
seen; and the moment a chance came I should be ready to 
take it. 

It was early still, but Olivero lost no time in marshalling his 
little army into place, that they might make a good effect as a 
tableau vivant when the great people came. He seated his six 
men with guitars, their sombreros at precisely the right angle on 


224 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

their glossy black heads, and in a row of chairs in front six 
young women in black dresses with black lace mantillas, the red 
and yellow ribbons of their castanets already in their hands. 
Then, at intervals, he grouped the dancers, youths, and pretty 
girls, carefully dressed in the costumes of different provinces, 
making a bouquet of bright colours in the light of a few concealed 
lamps which supplemented the silver radiance of the moon, now 
almost at the zenith. 

The minutes passed. The dancers talked in subdued tones 
which scarcely disturbed the nightingales. A breeze rustled the 
crisp leaves of the orange trees and myrtle hedges ; far away the 
voice of the watchman told the hour of eleven, echoed by the 
chiming bells of a church clock; and the last stroke had not 
sounded when there was a burst of merry voices in a distant 
avenue. Carmona and his friends had come — late, of course — 
or there could have been no Andalucians among them ; and sud- 
denly, as if on a signal, the gardens pulsed with rose-coloured 
light. In the pink blaze I saw Monica, slender and fair 
as a lily, in a white dress sparkling with silver; but I had 
only time to see that she walked beside Carmona, when the rose 
flame died down and left the garden pure and peaceful under 
the moon. 

For an instant the soft light seemed darkness, and I lost the 
white figure. When it sprang to my eyes again in a sharp emerald 
flash, while all the hidden fountains in the garden walks spouted 
jewels, others were grouped round it; only the gold crown of 
rippling hair shone out clear as a star for me among other wo- 
men’s dark coils and braids. 

Old ebony chairs with crimson velvet cushions and the Car- 
mona arms in heavy gilding, had been sent to the Alcazar from 
the Duke’s house, for the entertainment. The party sat down, 
and the dancing began, to the -flamenco music of guitars and the 
clacking of castanets; the fandango , the bolero , the malaguena, 
the chaquera vella; all the classical dances of old Spain, and each 
one a variant on the theme of love, the woman coy, coquettishly 


225 


MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN 

retreating; the man persuading or demanding, the woman yield- 
ing in passionate abandonment at last. 

In the midst of a sevillana I came out from the shadows of the 
kiosk and walked without a sound of rattling pebble or cracking 
twig, along a path which the moon had not yet found* 

The high backs of the ebony chairs were turned to me. I could 
not even see the heads of the people who sat in them ; but I had 
watched them take their places, and I knew that Monica’s chair 
was the outside one on the end, at the right. 

Everyone was absorbed in watching the dance. As it approach- 
ed its tempestuous climax of joy and love, I moved into the deep 
shadow of a magnolia tree, close to Monica — so close that, 
reaching out from behind the round trunk which screened me, I 
touched her hand. 

With a start, she glanced up, expecting perhaps to find that the 
breeze had blown a rose-branch across her fingers. Instead, she 
saw my face ; for I had taken off the wide-brimmed grey sombrero 
and bared my head to her. 

For a second she looked straight into my eyes, as if she doubted 
that she saw aright. Then, an unbelievable thing happened. Her 
eyes grew cold as glass. Her lips tightened into a line which I had 
not dreamed their soft curves could take. Her youth and beauty 
froze under my gaze. With a haughty lifting of her brows, and an 
indescribable movement of her shoulder which could mean noth- 
ing but scornful indifference, she turned away as if impatient at 
having lost a gesture of the dancers. 

Astounded, I stepped back; and so vast was the chasm of my 
amazement that I floundered in it bewildered, unable even to 
suffer. 

Then came a pang of such pain and anger as I had never 
known — anger not against the girl, but against Carmona ; and 
the knife which pierced me was dipped in the poison of jealously. 
My impulse was to leap out from the shadow and strangle him. 
My hands tingled for his neck, and through the drumming of 
the blood in my ears I could hear the crack his spine would make 


226 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

as I twisted it. For that instant I was a madman. Then, some- 
thing that was myself conquered. 

Horror of the savage thing just born in me overflowed in an 
icy flood that swept it, drowning, out of my soul. But never again, 
so long as I may live, shall I condemn a man who kills another in 
one blind moment of rage. 

Even when the red glaze was gone from before my eyes, I 
could not trust myself to stand there, looking at Carmona as he 
smiled and patronized the dancers by clapping his hands. I turn- 
ed away, not stopping until I had regained the kiosk. 

There I sat down, elbows on knees, head in my hands, trying 
to analyse that look on Monica’s face, trying to tell myself that I 
must have mis-read it — that such an expression as I imagined 
could not have been there for me. 

Perhaps, as I suddenly appeared behind a veil of flickering 
moonlight and shadow she had not known who I was. She had 
mistaken me for some impertinent stranger, and rather than give 
an alarm, she had hoped that a frown might rid her of the intrud- 
er. Then, I had gone without giving her a second chance to recog- 
nize me. 

After a few minutes of such reflections, I almost persuaded 
myself that I had been a fool and was wholly to blame for what I 
suffered. At least, I said, I owed it to her to make sure that the 
look had been for me, and the suspense must end to-night. I 
would know, even if I made her answer me under the eyes of 
Carmona and the others. 

But a moment later I saw that I need not be driven to such 
extremes. 

The first part of the dance was over; the Duke and his guests 
were walking through the gardens in the interval. They were 
coming my way — coming to the kiosk. As they advanced, I 
retreated into shadow. I let the group linger at the kiosk, admir- 
ing the beautiful azulejos ; I let them move on; then, as Monica 
loitered purposely behind the others, drooping and evidently 
sad, I put myself in front of her. 


MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN 


227 


“ Monica,” I said, “ what has happened P You — ” 

The girl flung up her head, and though there was a glitter of 
tears in her eyes and her face was white under the moon, she 
stared defiance. “ Don’t speak to me,” she said. “I never wish 
to see you again. I’m going to marry the Duke of Carmona.” 


XXVIII 


LET YOUR HEART SPEAK 

M EN do not kill themselves for such things. Fools, or 
cowards, or children may; but not men who are 
worthy the name. Yet there was no joy of life left in 
me, as I went out of the Alcazar garden, having 
had my answer. 

Love cannot die in an hour, and I loved Monica still, though I 
said that she was not the girl to whom I had dedicated my soul 
in worship. 

She had let me follow her, only to say at last : “ I never wish to 
see you again. I’m going to marry the Duke of Carmona.” 

After all, she had proved herself a docile daughter. She had 
seen what the house of a grandee of Spain can be like. She had 
seen the Blanca Laguna pearl. Poor child of eighteen years, 
brought up to know poverty and to loathe it; was I to let my love 
turn to hate because she was not an angel, but a woman like 
others ? 

A despairing pity and a sense of hopeless loss weighed upon 
my spirit with such heaviness as I had never known. Not only 
had I lost the girl I loved, but there was no such girl ; she was a 
dream, and I had waked up. That was all ; but it seemed the end 
of everything. 

My errand in Spain was finished, or rather broken short. She 
did not want me any more. The sooner I took myself out of her 
life and let her forget what must now seem childish folly, the 
better. I might have known — she was so young ; and she had 
warned me of disaster when she said, “ Don’t leave me alone.” 

228 


LET YOUR HEART SPEAK 


229 


I went to Olivero’s flat and changed my clothes; then to the 
hotel where Ropes and the car were waiting. For the first time 
since we had come into Spain, I drove, “ like a demon,” Ropes’ 
surprised face said, though his tongue was discreet; and the wild 
rush through the air was wine to thirsty lips. 

At the Cortijo de Santa Rufina they were all sitting in the patio 
in floods of moonlight, the great awning which gave shade by 
day, fully rolled back. 

“ You see,” exclaimed Pilar, “ we all sat up for you. Well, how 
did it go off ? ” 

I heard myself laughing. It did not feel a pleasant laugh, but 
I was glad to think that it sounded like any other. “ Oh, it went 
off exactly as I might have expected,” I said, knowing that it 
was useless to hide my humiliation, though I might hide my 
misery. “And consequently, my car and I will also go off, to- 
morrow. As for Dick, he must do as he pleases; but I advise him, 
now he’s here, to stay for the Semana Santa." 

“What do you mean?” asked Pilar, almost letting fall the 
guitar on which she had been playing. “ Has — has Lady Monica 
promised to go with you — to-morrow ? ” 

“ Not at all,” said I. “ But what she’s promised to another man 
makes it better that I should go. She’s engaged to Carmona.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” cried Pilar. 

“ I shouldn’t, if anyone but herself had told me.” 

“She said it?” 

“ In exactly those words. She said too, that she didn’t want to 
see me again.” 

“ Oh — oh ! ” breathed Pilar. “ Thank Heaven for that. You 
frightened me horribly — just for a moment.” 

I stared. “And now — ” 

“Now I know there’s some mistake — dreadful, but not too 
dreadful to clear up.” 

I laughed again, as bitterly as I felt this time. “Extraordinary 
idea! Because she says she doesn’t want to see me, there’s a mis- 
take— ” 


230 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“ Of course. Surely you aren’t so cold-hearted, so disloyal, so 
— so stupid as to believe her ? But tell me instantly all about it — 
everything; every word; every look.” 

“ Easily done,” I said, “ if it won’t bore you all. There were 
very few of either; but what there were left nothing to the 
imagination.” 

“Imagination indeed!” exclaimed Pilar. “But go on.” 

So I went on, and she listened to the end without interruption, 
as did the two others, who were only men, and therefore had no 
comments to make upon such matters. 

As I told the wretched story in as few and as bald words as 
possible, Pilar sat grave-eyed, tense-lipped a i Portia in the Court 
of Justice before her turn to plead. When I finished she was 
silent for a moment, I thought because, after all, she found her- 
self with nothing to say. But, when her father in his compassion 
would have begun some murmur of eonsolation, she broke out 
quickly, “ I suppose she is engaged to the Duke, or she wouldn’t 
have said so.” 

“Not much doubt of that,” I assented. 

“Nor any doubt of her real feelings. Poor little girl, I know 
she’s wishing she could die to-night. Those devils ! Yes, I will 
say it, Papa. I shall be forgiven, for they are. They’ve told her 
some hateful lie, and made her so desperate she was ready to do 
anything. Why, it’s just come to me; there’s only one thing that 
would make a girl who loves a man do what she’s done.” 

“ What ? ” I broke in, breathless ; for Pilar’s fire had flamed into 
my blood now, and I waited for her answer as a man waits for an 
antidote to poison. 

“ Believing he’s in love with someone else.” 

“ How could she believe that ? Who is there — ” I stopped. 
My eyes met Pilar’s, and she blushed, stammering as she hurried 
bravely ’on. “ The greatest nonsense, of course. But — but — oh> 
don’t you remember how she looked that evening at Manzanares 
when we saw her last ? So wistful, as if there were something on 
her mind she mustn’t tell ? I caught her looking at me once or 


LET YOUR HEART SPEAK 


231 


twice as if she were wondering — they must have begun, even 
then, to upset her mind, poor, lonely child; but the worst hadn’t 
happened; she was only a little doubtful. If you could have spok- 
en to her, or if I — ” 

“ I did write,” I said, “ though I’ve always been afraid some- 
thing went wrong with that letter.” 

“Ah!” Pilar caught at this, and would have the whole story 
with every detail. I even found myself confessing my old presenti- 
ment, the fancy that Monica was calling for me to help her.” j 

“ I believe she was, calling and praying. Of course she never 
got the letter. What was in it ? If you don’t mind my asking ? ” 

“ I said, a crisis seemed to be coming, and she must make up 
her mind to let me take her away.” 

“A splendid letter to fall into her mother’s hands. Did you 
sign your real name ? ” 

“No name at all. I wrote in a hurry, and — ” 

“ That’s lucky. But even if you had. Lady Yale- Avon couldn’t 
have shown such a letter to the Duke, he’s too Spanish — too 
Moorish, I ought to say. She wouldn’t have dared, as she wants 
him for a son-in-law.” 

“That occurred to me.” 

“ But there aren’t many other things she wouldn’t dare, to get 
rid of such a danger as you. If she got the letter — and I’m sure 
she did — there was your handwriting at her mercy. Supposing 
she—” 

“ I know what’s in your mind. But I don’t think such things 
are done — out of novels.” 

“Oh, aren’t they; when people are clever enough? I know of 
one case myself. And the girl’s life was spoiled. Lady Monica’s 
shan’t be though, if I can help it.” 

“You’re taking a great deal for granted,” I said. But I felt as 
if the radiance of heaven were pouring down upon me, instead of 
the pensive moonlight. 

“ Doesn’t your heart tell you I’m right ? ” cried Pilar. 

“Yes!” I answered. “Yes, you good angel, it does.” 


XXIX 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 



HE voice of some maid servant singing a copla waked 
me early in the morning, after an hour or two of sleep. 

El amor y la naranja 
se parecen infinito ; 

Que por muy dulces que seon 
de agrio tienen $u poquito .* 


Yes, always a little bitter, I said to myself. But if for me there 
were after all to be some sweetness left ? 

Last night before parting, the Cherub, Dick and I had talked 
matters over from every point of view. I was only too thankful 
to take the advice of one girl on behalf of another, and give 
to Monica the benefit of that doubt which at first had not 
seemed admissible. But even Pilar confessed that Monica’s 
engagement to Carmona made our part a hundred times more 
difficult. 

Whatever her motive had been — revenge upon me for 
supposed disloyalty, dread of her mother, or awakened ambition 
— she had in any case consented to marry him, and Pilar sug- 
gested that the dinner invitations had been sent out as an excuse 
for a public announcement, which would more firmly bind her 
to her promise. The news would have flown all over Seville in 


*Love and oranges 
How similar are they. 

For however sweet their taste, 

They are always a little bitter. 

Leonard Williams’ Translation. 
232 


233 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 

twenty-four hours; when the King arrived on Tuesday Carmona 
would certainly lose no time in telling him; Lady Vale-Avon 
would not wait for Monica to write to the Princess, but would 
probably wire; and no matter what my private anxieties might 
be, for Monica’s sake I must do nothing openly. As for defying 
Carmona to use his knowledge of my true name, and challenging 
him to fight, that must not be thought of. Monica’s fair fame 
would never survive such a scandal, especially in Spain, where a 
girl’s reputation is as easily damaged as the down on a butterfly’s 
wing. 

But, as the Cherub said, there are many roads which lead to 
the centre of the world. He had learned at his club that the Duke 
had lent his box in the tribune to a friend, for such processions 
as he and his household did not care to see. That friend was a 
member of the club, and through him the Cherub had found out 
that the box in question was next to the royal box which would 
be occupied by the King, the Infanta Dona Maria Teresa, and 
her husband. Immediately upon making this discovery, the 
Cherub had begun to move heaven and earth to obtain a box 
for himself, either behind, in front of, or on one side of Carmona’s 
box. He did not know yet if he should succeed, for things were not 
done in a moment in Spain. Of course all the boxes were already 
subscribed for the whole week by members of the aristocracy 
and other persons of importance in Seville; but, then, the Cherub 
had friends and acquaintances in every class. If it were a ques- 
tion of money, money would not be spared ; if it were a question 
of a favour for a favour in return, that favour would be given. 
There was hope that the thing might be arranged; and once 
Pilar came within speaking distance of Monica, nothing short 
of sudden death could prevent her from telling the girl the 
truth, vowing by all the saints that she had been deceived for 
the one purpose of separating her from me. If Monica could be 
made to believe that, she would have courage to be true in spite 
of all ; and then it would be for me to save her from keeping the 
engagement into which she had been tricked. 


234 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


As for my going to Carmona’s house and trying to see Monica, 
such a plan appeared useless, as I should certainly not be al- 
lowed to come near her. Therefore I must wait with such patience 
as I could, and let my friends help me in the subtle ways favoured 
in Spain. 

Now, Palm Sunday had dawned crystal clear; but Pilar had 
explained that nobody occupied the boxes and chairs to see the 
procession of palms in the morning; that, though it was pretty 
to see, it was not one of the great sights; and, as one must be 
waiting early outside the cathedral, it was unlikely that anyone 
from Carmona’s house would be there. Still there was the chance, 
and I could not afford to miss it; so the O’Donnels offered to go 
with me into Seville, Dick, of course, being of the party. 

Consequently, every one at the Cortijo was astir by six; and 
before seven Dick and I were in the patio , just in time to greet 
Pilar utterly fascinating in a mantilla. 

She was dressed as a Spanish woman of the upper class 
should be dressed on Palm Sunday; and though the tight- 
fitting, rich black brocade silk which she wore would, in any 
other country, have seemed a costume not for young girlhood 
but for middle age, it suited her wonderfully. Her clear-skinned, 
heart-shaped face, with its great soft eyes and red lips, was 
beautiful in the cloudy frame of black lace; and her piled hair, 
of so dark a brown as to appear black, except when the sunlight 
burnished threads of gold in its masses, looked ruddy as the 
leaves of a copper-beech gleaming through the figured lace. 

“ By Jove ! ” exclaimed Dick, jumping to his feet when he saw 
her. No more than that; but Pilar was woman enough to under- 
stand the value of the compliment; and she smiled, patting the 
flounce of her mantilla into still more graceful folds on her breast. 

“ You think me nice like this ? ” she asked. “ I’m proud of my 
mantilla, you know. It came to me from my great-grandmother, 
as all the best ones do come to Spanish girls; and I’ve two 
beautiful white mantillas which I wear on great feast days 
when I want to be very beautiful. ” 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 23 5 

“ At bull-fights ? ” asked Dick, his eyes adoring her in a way 
he would have laughed at in any other man only a few weeks 
ago. 

“ I don’t go to bull-fights,” said Pilar. e< I love the poor bulls 
and horses so much, it would make me sad to see them die. 
Though, if I were a bull, I would myself choose a brave death 
in the arena, after a life of five glorious years, rather than the 
slaughter-house, or a weary existence of labour till old age or 
overstrain finished me. But I drive in the paseo on the bull-fight 
days, and for the feria. Ay de mi 1 A girl in Spain has few other 
chances to make herself pretty for the world to see, unless she 
lives in Madrid ; and if it were not for the bull-fights, I suppose 
many girls would never get husbands. But, Our Lady be thanked, 
I do not have to look for one. ” 

Did she mean that there was any understanding with Don 
Cipriano ? 

I knew this was the thought which flashed through Dick’s 
mind. And if Pilar had been desirable in motoring days, she 
was irresistible at home. 

Before eight o’clock the Gloria was at the gates, and twenty 
minutes later we were on foot in the street of the Gran Capitan, 
mingling with the crowd who waited for the first procession of 
Semana Santa to pour out from the cathedral doors. But the 
crowd was not a dense one, and the face I hoped to see was not 
there. “It will be a long time before anything happens,” said 
the Cherub. “Here, when a thing should be at eight, it is at 
nine, or maybe half -past. What does a little time matter? But 
mass is being said. Wflio knows that the old Duchess may not 
have had a religious fit, and come to hear it, bringing her 
friends ? ” 

No more was needed to make me anxious to go in; and we 
entered the cathedral, which is, to my mind, the most beautiful 
inspiring, and poetic in the world. 

The two O’Donnels flitted away in the dusk, mysterious as the 
t ,vi light of the gods, and we guessed that they were going to 


236 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

hear mass. Soon they found us again. They had not seen those 
for whom we searched; but the procession was starting. 

We made haste out before it, and none too soon, for it billowed 
forth after us in a glitter of gold and purple vestments, and tall, 
bleached palm-branches like beams of moonlight streaming 
against the blue of the morning sky. 

“They’re not here,” said Pilar, when the last gleaming 
crucifix and waving palm, blessed by the bishop, had disappear- 
ed. “I was sure they wouldn’t come. And — it does seem hard 
to disappoint you — but I’m afraid they won’t be in their box 
this afternoon. Oh, we shall go, of course! But that will be the 
time for the Duke to lend the Conde de Ambulato his box. 
Thursday will be the great day, when the King will be in the 
royal box, and will walk with his cofradia of the cigarette- 
makers before Our Lady of Victory. You know how anxious 
the Duke is to win back the favour of the royal family; and he’ll 
hardly think it worth while to sit through the hours of a pro- 
cession unless he can be next door to the King, with a chance 
of an invitation to his box. ” 

This was discouraging; still, I determined to be in the crowd 
during the afternoon ; and I knew well that, though the splendid 
show of Semana Santa was an old story to the O’Donnels, they 
would not fail me for a moment. 

Dick shamefacedly bought from one of many vendors an 
armful of blessed palms for Pilar to tie under the house windows, 
as a protection against the rage of thunder-storms throughout 
the coming year; and we drove to the country with the great 
glistening fronds blowing behind the motor-car like giant 
plumes. 

I spent hours writing, tearing up, and rewriting a letter to 
Monica which Pilar was to try and deliver if she could, and 
when she could. We lunched and did our best to make careless 
conversation, as if we were not anxious and excited — Dick and 
I for our own selfish reasons; the two others in sympathy. We 
talked of Seville, past and present — once “ Sultana of the 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 237 

South, ” still beautiful and gay, though her reign is over. “ We 
are very happy even now, among ourselves, we Se vi llanos, ” 
said the Cherub. “ You should see a tertulia, if you want to know 
how families can enjoy themselves together. But there’s another 
side of the picture, too. English and American people — there 
are a few — accuse us of being unsociable. They say we never 
give invitations to luncheons and dinners as people of other 
countries do; that a few calls are exchanged, and that is all, in an 
intercourse, it may be, of many years. ” 

“Oh, I know what they say!” laughed Pilar. “I heard an 
American girl give a friend of hers a description of families 
she knew in Seville. ‘ You go to call,’ said she; ‘ and if the ladies 
are at home (as they won’t be if they can help it), you’re shown 
into a shut-up drawing-room smelling of mustiness. In front 
of the fireplace, if there is any, or else the brazier-table, a hard 
yellow or red satin sofa is drawn up, an armchair on each side. 
All the rest of the furniture’s ranged in a straight row round the 
wall. It’s in the afternoon, but you wait till the ladies dress, 
because if they’re in they’re sure to be in wrappers unless it’s so 
late that their carriage is ready for the paseo. After you’re nearly 
gone to sleep, they come, and you talk of any uninteresting 
things they can think of ; never interesting ones, because they’re 
kept for intimate friends’ gossip; and the girls simper and stare 
as if you were a curiosity, because you’re allowed to walk in the 
street without a maid. ’ That’s being ‘sociable ’ in Seville, ac- 
cording to the American girl; and I’m afraid that she’s right 
from a foreigner’s point of view. ” 

All this, to amuse us ; but unfortunately it was far from amusing 
to Dick. He sat looking introspective, and wondering no doubt, 
if Pilar meant to hint that, so far as the door of her heart was con- 
cerned, foreigners might save themselves the trouble of knocking. 

Seeing him taciturn, as hostess she felt it her duty to console 
him, so when luncheon was over an invitation to go and visit 
Yivillo, the beloved bull, was delivered to all, with an especially 
beguiling look at Dick. He accepted with suspicious alacrity. 


£38 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

and to please her I said yes ; while the Cherub, who was evidently 
longing for a siesta, shrugged his shoulders dutifully. It seemed 
that we could see the pasture which was Vivillo’s drawing-room 
without trespassing upon Carmona’s land, on which I should 
have been loth to set my foot, even for Pilar; but when, after 
twenty minutes’ walk across meadows, we arrived at the hedge 
which divided the Duke’s ganaderia from Colonel O’Donnel’s 
farm, Dick would not be satisfied with a distant inspection of 
the grazing bulls. Pilar (denuded of her mantilla, but still in 
the black brocade, ready for the afternoon in Seville) was going 
to pay a friendly call upon her darling, and Dick was resolved 
upon an introduction. 

Pilar cried gaily to a herdsman visible in the distance, and 
joyously obedient to the girl’s evidently familiar voice, the young 
fellow came running towards us, garrocha in hand. Between him 
and the hedge which separated the two properties, was a deep 
ditch which no bull, save in a state of fury, would care to jump. 
But not far away a long plank lay half hidden in rich grass, and 
the ganadero dragged it nearer, without a question, as if he knew 
already what was expected of him. Having pushed it across the 
ditch, to form a bridge at the spot where the hedge was thinnest, 
he took off his hat, and welcomed the gracious senor and senorita 
home. Vivillo, said he, was well, but would be the better for a sight 
of the senorita, who was the one human being he had seemed 
to love since the day of the tienta which had proved him 
brave. 

Yes, there he was — the “ lively one, ” well named indeed ! — 
grazing for the moment off there to the south-east. Could not 
the senorita see his brown back among the grey and black ones, 
farthest away ? But she had only to call. Vivillo knew her voice 
and would answer to it as to no other. It was really a marvel. 
And was it true that she had begun negotiating for his purchase ? 
Ah, it was a pity that such a toro bravo would not have his chance 
to fight in some splendid corridas where the noblest bulls of 
Spain must meet the most skilled of the espadas. He — Mateo — 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 


239 


had often thought what a grand spectacle it would be to see 
Fuentes and Vivillo together. But — well, better waste the best 
bull that ever grazed on these pastures, and please the senorita. 
For her interests it was a good thing that the Senor Duque 
seldom or never troubled to come and see los toros , for if his eye 
once lit upon Vivillo he would never part with him for any money, 
except for the honour of the corrida. 

“ Then be sure you don’t let the Duke have a hint!” laughed 
Filar, happy and fearless as a boy, as she squeezed through the 
hedge and tripped across the plank, followed by Dick. 

“ She is perfectly safe, ” said the Cherub, in answer to an un- 
easy look from me. “ She’s as well known over there almost as 
the herdsmen who tend the bulls from their birth; besides, she 
has some curious influence over animals. I have never seen any- 
thing like it in another human being, though I have read of such 
things. Since she was a child, I have no longer had any fear for 
her over there; and Senor Waring is safe also, while he keeps 
with her and Mateo, unless he were foolish enough to make 
some demonstration. But for me, I am no friend of los toros when 
they are at home.” 

Dick and Pilar were in Carmona’s pasture now, moving to- 
wards a troop of grazing bulls, magnificent creatures whose 
terrible horns and silken hides (branded with double circles 
under a crown) glittered in the sun. Scarcely a head was tossed 
in honour of the new-comers; but as Pilar raised her girlish voice 
to give a peculiar call, I saw a dark form in the distance separate 
itself from a group. Then a brown, lean-flanked bull, nobly 
armed with horns grand as the antlers of a stag, bounded away 
from his companions, and rushed in so straight a fine towards 
Pilar, that in spite of the Cherub’s words, my heart was wrenched. 

But I need not have feared. While the young herdsman and 
Dick stood by passive and admiring, this toro bravo of famous 
fighting breed reduced his run to a canter, and trotted up to 
Pilar as tamely as if he had been a belled cabestro. 

The girl, opening a large knotted handkerchief which she had 


240 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

brought filled with sweet biscuit, took a step or two forward to 
meet the bull. Nestling against his huge head, powerful enough 
to bear up a horse and rider impaled upon his horns, she calmly 
fed the great beast from her store. Never could there have been a 
more beautiful picture since the day when another bull sub- 
mitted to the caresses of Europa. 

Yivillo scarcely deigned to look at Dick, who made some bids 
for his favour. All his chivalrous soul of toro bravo was absorbed 
in pleasure at Pilar’s return, gratitude for her remembrance of 
him. I would scarcely have believed that it could be real, had I 
not seen it. 

For ten minutes she stayed, Dick close at her side, always 
ignored by the bull; then she returned and walked towards us, 
slowly, the herdsman keeping near and Vivillo marching after 
in a resolute way which would have turned grey the hair of a 
nervous man or woman. 

But if Dick were conscious of his nerves in such an unusual 
situation, he did not show it. His head was bent over Pilar’s, 
talking earnestly, and though she never looked up at him in 
answer, once she broke out laughing, so merrily, I wondered 
what he had said. 

In our own meadow again, safely delivered from the bulls. 
Pilar slipped instantly to her father’s side and began chattering 
about Vivillo, who stood by the ditch looking wistfully after her 
as he chewed his last biscuit. Dick and I were thus thrown to- 
gether; and though Dick’s face is no tell-tale, I guessed somehow 
that his mind was not as calm as his features. 

“ I should think that might have been a little upsetting to an 
amateur, ” I said. 

“Maybe,” answered Dick, absent-mindedly. “But it isn’t 
that, if I’m looking queer. Say Ramon, I’ve done it. ” 

“What?” 

“Proposed to a girl for the first time in my life. What’s more, 
I grovelled. I called Vivillo a lamb, though at the moment he 
was looking more like a mountain. I told her if she’d marry me, 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 241 

she could have him and any other bulls sitting about on our 
hearthrug; that we’d have a nice big one on purpose. ” 

‘ That ought to be an inducement — even from a heretic . 99 

“ Oh, confound you, don’t harp on that. I’m mad about the 
girl. I know all you’re suffering, and if I ever put on superior 
airs, I take them all back and swallow them. ” 

Even a man heartbroken would have had to grin; and Pilar v 
had persuaded me not to be heartbroken yet. If I laughed, I 
sympathized too, and liked Dick better than ever because we 
were eating the same bitter-sweet orange of which the voice 
had sung. It seemed that Pilar had neither accepted nor refused 
him, but had asked for time to think; and he would have been a 
little encouraged if she had not suddenly said, “Don Cipriano 
loves bulls.” 

At five o’clock we spun into Seville, with the car, for nobody 
knew at what time the procession might begin; nobody ever did 
know, it appeared. And Pilar was no longer merrily boyish, but 
feminine and seductive again in her black mantilla. 

The vast oblong of the Plaza de la Constitution was already 
humming with the excitement of a moving crowd. The lane 
between chairs and tribune was thronged with the poor of the 
town and peasants from the country, who would have no seats 
and must press for places to see the procession ; but there was no 
ill-natured pushing, and gentlest care was taken not to crush 
the toddling, star-eyed children who tumbled under people’s 
feet. Soldiers laughed and edged their way past clinging groups 
of pretty girls. Civil guards, looking as if they had stepped out 
of old pictures, strove to keep order, their shouts lost among the 
cries which filled the air; cries of water-sellers bearing big 
earthen vessels; cries of those who wheeled cargoes of roasted 
peanuts in painted ships; cries of crab -sellers ; cries of shabby 
old men, and neat, white-capped boys, hawking fresh-fried 
calientes, sugared cakes, and all kinds of dulces on napkin- 
covered trays. 

English and American tourists in panamas wandered through 


242 


THE CAE OF DESTINY 

the throng searching for their numbered chairs; vendors of 
seats shouted reduced prices; bareheaded women with brown 
babies in their arms offered programmes of the week’s pro- 
cessions ; tattered boys shrieked the daily papers, and coloured 
post-cards ; while from the balconies of private houses ladies in 
black mantillas, children in white, and foreigners in gay colours 
looked down upon the scene. 

So passed an hour, while the boxes and best seats began to 
fill. Spanish families of the middle class, men and women in 
black, took front seats of the tribune, where the empty royal 
box made a brave splash of gold and crimson; but more slowly 
came members of the aristocracy and officers in blue and gold; 
and, jostled by the crowd, I waited in suspense. 

Colonel O’Donnel had gone to his club for news of the box 
which, by strategic means, he had been trying to get. Pilar and 
Dick had gone with him, to remain in the car chaperoned by 
Ropes, until he should come out; so that I had no means of 
learning whether the Cherub had triumphed or failed. All I 
knew was, that a club acquaintance whose wife was ill, might 
be induced to offer his box, close to the royalties, to a second 
acquaintance in exchange for one directly behind that which 
the Duke of Carmona had taken. If this could be arranged, the 
O’Donnels would be given the latter, in exchange for — only 
the Cherub knew what. Borne back and forth with the moving 
throng, like a leaf in an eddy, my eyes seldom strayed for long 
from the tribune. Would the Carmona household come ? Would 
the O’Donnels be their neighbours ? 

At last I saw Pilar and the two men entering the tribune. 
Yes, they had succeeded, I could tell from the Cherub’s descrip- 
tion of the Duke’s box. But Carmona’s was still empty. 

The procession had not yet appeared, though the first cofradia 
had been due in the Plaza an hour ago, and twilight was falling 
over the vast square, ethereally clear and pale. Only the figure 
of Faith on the soaring Giralda, turned as if to watch the scene, 
still glittered in the sun; and its dazzling brilliance had faded 


243 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 

before a bugle note rang out, poignant as a cry of bitter sorrow 
from a breaking heart. 

This was the herald of a brotherhood with its sacred images; 
and the police began to sweep the crowd before them out of the 
lane between the chairs and tribune. Slowly the flock was forced 
along by the shepherd dogs ; and as the way cleared, forth from 
the dim tunnel of Las Sierpes marched, with arms reversed, a 
squad of civil guards; then a company of mounted soldiers, 
their bugles still wailing that sad warning of some piteous 
spectacle to come. 

The cavalry passed; it was but a modern preface to a medieeval 
poem which, following closely, brought with it into the Plaza 
sad ghosts, grim ghosts, sainted ghosts of long past days. 

Headed by one of their number bearing aloft an exquisite 
crucifix, walked a band of penitents carrying great lighted 
candles. Their white robes of linen swept in long pointed trains 
over the cobbles, the silver buckles on their black shoes glinting 
with each step ; through the narrow slits in the blue ccipuchas, 
'whose conical peaks tapered far above the wearers’ heads, their 
dark eyes burned with mysterious intensity. Two and two they 
moved, noiseless as bats save for the tap of silver batons, making 
an avenue of gliding stars, like will-o’-the-wisps, from the black 
mouth of Las Sierpes across the length of the Plaza. 

Then suddenly, in that dark, distant tunnel flashed something 
luminous, something that moved, swung in air higher than the 
heads of men, something that was like a great blazing casket of 
jewels or a cloud of fireflies. 

It came on, halting, starting again, reaching the open square, 
and revealing itself as an illuminated platform supporting a 
crucified Christ, life size, with no detail spared of tragedy and 
torture. 

One of those fine sculptures of painted wood, such as I had 
seen at Valladolid, the sixteenth century artist had spent his 
soul in showing to believers what Christ had suffered that they 
might be saved; and so startling was the appeal of this terriLle 


244 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


figure to the sympathies, that for an instant I found myself for- 
getting everything except a wild desire to rescue it. 

As the paso, with its quivering silver lamps and strewn flowers, 
came near to where I stood, I could see, beneath the long velvet 
curtains which draped the platform, twenty pairs or more of 
slowly moving feet ; and the frequent pauses were accounted for. 

I watched the heart-rending figure pass round the corner of 
the Plaza, out of sight, swallows wheeling overhead as if once 
more to pluck the thorns from that bleeding brow; and as it 
vanished, far away in the dusk of Las Sierpes appeared another 
illumined mystery of clustering stars. Out from darkness into 
hyacinth twilight it floated, a canopied platform of purple velvet, 
crusted with silver and gold ; under the glittering roof a virgin, 
who seemed to stand praying in a garden of tall lilies, lit by a 
sacred silver flame. 

The crowding lilies, as the paso came nearer, were only white, 
waxen candles after all, but in their light the image of the Virgin 
gained a womanliness and beauty extraordinary. Her gorgeous 
trailing robe of gold-embroidered velvet, her under gown of satin 
scintillating with diamonds, her blazing crown of jewels, the 
sparkling rings on her delicate fingers, her necklaces, her brace- 
lets, were such as the Mother of Christ never dreamed of in her 
simple life; and half the watchers knew grinding poverty, which 
a few of her gems might relieve. 

That thought, I knew, would leap to many minds; but they 
would be the minds of foreigners; and I, being Spanish, under- 
stood. I saw what this procession of emblems meant to these 
people, rich and poor alike. They were being reminded, in the 
realistic and dramatic way which appealed best to their imagina- 
tions, of all Christ had suffered for them, of all the mother- 
woman had endured. The gems, which to alien minds were 
incongruous, crystallized their tears, their love, their gratitude; 
and Our Lady’s jewels were the jewels of the poor — rich posses- 
sions which could not be taken from them, joys for ever, objects 
of their highest pride. 



24 5 


THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES 

Bending in gentle grief, the fair face bowed, the graceful 
figure passed in fragrance of lilies, perfumed wax, and incense 
sending blue clouds from silver censors swung by white-robed 
boys. With her, as she moved, went music — our Lady’s own 
music, sad and beautiful as moonlight on a lonely grave, cool as 
peace after hot pain. 

Now the box in the tribune I had watched so long was filled 
with strangers. Pilar had been right. Carmona had given his 
place to friends. But with that soft, haunting music in my ears, 
sweet as remembered days of joy, I could not fear anything. 
Somehow I was at peace, with good thoughts in my mind and 
hope in my heart. 

Brotherhoods in black, brotherhoods in purple, and paso 
after paso went by; Christus bending under the weight of the 
cross, Christus praying among sleeping disciples in Gethsemane, 
Our Lady of the Rosary, Our Lady of Tears, flaming rivers of 
light, suns rising out of purple clouds. 

Night folded over the great square, with its crowd of people. 
No one had gone away. Electric lights burst out and made the 
scene like the auditorium of some vast theatre; but the stage 
and auditorium were one. Then the full moon, yellow as honey, 
looked over the thronged roof -gardens of the tall houses opposite 
the tribune, and sailed high in heaven. 

It was past nine o’clock when Colonel O’Donnel touched me 
on the shoulder. 

“ We saw you long ago, ” he said. e< You are so tall. Shall we 
go home to dinner? But on Thursday you will have another 
chance. ” 

Thursday! and there were three days in between. I wished 
that he could have left me in my dream of peace as long as it 
might last. 


XXX 


THE HAND UNDER THE CURTAINS 

L IKE a dream the three days passed; but not a dream 
of peace, for that I lost with the last echo of the Virgin 
music and the fragrance of her lilies. 

Dick thought himself miserable, but I would glad- 
ly have changed my state of mind for his. Sometimes he hoped, 
sometimes he despaired, but at all times he was really very happy, 
if only he had known it. He enjoyed visiting the Murillos with 
Pilar and the Cherub when I had no heart to go. He borrowed 
the motor to whisk them out to Italica. He went with the O’Don- 
nels late every afternoon for the drive in the fashionable paseo 
along the river side, as pleased with the five handsome mules, 
in their smart Spanish harness of white and crimson rope and 
brown leather, as if they had been his own. 

As for me, I would not go, although Dick urged that, in the 
never-ending double line of fine carriages, we might meet the 
Duchess of Carmona’s. But I did not dare to see Monica again 
after what had happened unless there were some hope that Pilar 
could speak for me, or that I could speak for myself. Still, I 
could not resist questioning the family in the evening. Had they 
heard tidings of her ? Had they seen her ? 

Presently there was news, but not good news. The engage- 
ment was known, and was being talked of everywhere. The story 
was that the wedding would be soon, as the Duchess was not 
strong, and professed herself anxious to see her son married. 
Gossip said also that the marriage would be celebrated in Madrid 
directly after the festivities of the royal wedding were over, so 

246 


247 


THE HAND UNDER THE CURTAINS 

that the young duchess, as the wife of a grandee of Spain, could 
become lady-in-waiting to the bride-queen, when los Reyes re- 
turned from their honeymoon at La Granja. 

The Cherub told me these things only because I insisted on 
hearing all; and on Wednesday evening I dragged further de- 
tails from Pilar. They had passed the Duchess, Lady Vale-Avon, 
and Monica in the Carmona carriage, the handsomest in Seville; 
and the Duke had been on horseback, looking more attractive 
than Pilar had ever seen him in the chulo costume, worn at times 
as an amusing affectation by some young aristocrats of Andalucia. 
I could picture him in the wide-brimmed grey sombrero, the 
tight short jacket, and trousers fitting close as a glove until they 
widened at the knee. Yes, the dress would suit him; and Pilar 
confessed that he was a perfect rider. I was horribly jealous, 
ready to fancy that, after all, Monica had actually begun to care 
for him. 

There had been a procession on Wednesday, but it was not an 
affair of importance; and with Thursday, and the presence of 
the King, all the greatest events of this Semana Santa were to 
begin. 

Early in the afternoon there was washing of poor men’s feet 
by the great ecclesiastics in the cathedral, the King remaining at 
the Alcazar to bathe — as Dick put it — a few carefully selected 
feet on his own account, as a sign of humility. Later, would come 
the most splendid procession of the week, the King walking with 
his own cofradia; in the evening, the Miserere in the cathedral, 
and processions all night, till mass on Good Friday morning. To 
myself I said, therefore, that I was to have two more chances: 
the one for which I depended upon Pilar in the afternoon; the 
one for which I depended on an inspiration of my own in the 
evening. For all the world was going to hear the Miserere. 

Though it was a week for penitence and fasting, Seville — 
honoured by the King — thrilled with excitement. Thousands 
of strangers had poured into the town for this day, and the crowds 
were three times as dense as on Sunday. Though there had been 


248 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


disquieting rumours, whispers of anarchist plots and bombs, the 
police had been alert; the King had taken a swift gunboat up the 
Guadalquivir, instead of arriving by special train from Cadiz, 
had reached Seville safely; and now anxiety was forgotten. All 
the town poured into the Plaza de la Constitution more than an 
hour before there was any hope that the procession might begin ; 
and I was in the crowd. 

The boxes filled earlier than before, many of the ladies no 
longer in black, but wearing Paris hats and pale-tinted dresses, 
though to-morrow there would be black mantillas again, and red 
carnations. Pilar, Dick, and Colonel O’Donnel were in their 
places, and though the Duke’s box was still empty, I was sure 
I should not be disappointed to-day. “He’ll appear about the 
time the King does,” I was saying to myself, when suddenly 
there came a stir in the royal box. The mayor and town coun- 
cillors walked in, looking important; four giant halberdiers of 
the royal guard took position, each in a comer of the box. Then 
rose a shout, “Viva el Rey!” and against the crimson velvet 
draperies the figure of the tall young King in white uniform 
stood out like a slender statue of marble. 

He was accompanied by his sister, the Infanta, and her hus- 
band, three or four ladies, and a retinue of decorated officers ; but 
for an instant I saw only the King, because — rebel as I was 
supposed to be — my hat waved as high and my cheers rang as 
loudly as any in the crowd. 

I had not seen his face — that day at Biarritz long ago — 
when his automobile stopped for want of petrol. He had worn his 
motor-mask, and had not removed it, for he was incognito; but 
now, as he bowed in answer to the people’s greeting, the young 
face was noble under the silver helmet. His smile brought a deep 
dimple to either cheek, and a pleasant light to the brown eyes. 
I was proud of my King, and found myself wishing that I could 
serve him, though it seemed that that could never be; and with a 
sigh for the perversities of fate I looked away, only to receive a 
shock of surprise. 


THE HAND UNDER THE CURTAINS 


249 


Among the ladies with the Infanta were the Duchess of Car- 
mona, Lady Vale-Avon, and Monica. With the officers and 
friends of the King stood the Duke, his dark face radiating satis- 
faction, as if this were the crowning moment of his life. 

Not only was Monica with the man as his fiancee, but she was 
dressed, in compliment to him, like a girl of Spain. She wore a 
mantilla such as the Infanta wore, and so bright was her hair, so 
fair her skin framed in the black flounce of lace, that she was 
almost as much stared at as the King. On her breast, pinning 
the folds of the mantilla, there was a glint of crimson ; and looking 
closely, I made it out to be a large brooch of rubies, forming the 
famous “ No. 8 Do,” the motto of Seville. Only the Duke could 
have given her this, I thought; and she had accepted it! 

There was no more hope, then. It did not matter that her un- 
expected presence in the royal box would prevent Pilar from 
speaking, or giving her my letter. Still, I clung desperately to the 
one chance left; the cathedral and the Miserere. 

Hardly were the royalties and their friends settled in the red- 
draped box when the next brotherhood marched out from Las 
Sierpes, and halted their first paso before the King, that he might 
see it well. He was on his feet, his head bared and bowed; and 
while he stood veiled in rising incense, some emotional soul in the 
audience broke into a Moorish wail, the prayer song or saeta of 
the people, improvising words which caught the popular fancy. 

A murmur of approval ran through the crowd, which pressed 
close, in spite of the police; and as all eyes for the moment turned 
upon the King, or upon the white-haired peasant singer, a thing 
happened which caught my attention. 

The velvet curtain which hid the bearers of the paso resting 
before the royal box, parted very slightly at one side, as if some- 
one were peering out; then a hand darted forth and received 
from a man in a black coat, who stood with his back half-turned 
to me, a faded bouquet of flowers, arranged Spanish fashion in a 
hard, stiff pyramid. 

Quick as that darting hand a thought flashed through my 


250 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

brain. In a few seconds the paso would be moving on; the bearers 
were bracing themselves for a new effort. That bouquet! if it 
should hold the threatened bomb ? This was the moment for such 
an attempt at wrecking the royal box, for the King was a member 
of the next brotherhood that must pass; and soon he would be 
leaving his sister and friends to walk with it, perhaps not return- 
ing to his box that day. 

The passing of light is no more swift than was the flight of 
these thoughts ; and without waiting to calculate the cost to my- 
self, thinking only of the King and of the girl I loved, I instantly 
thrust both hands between the curtains, following the flowers as 
they were passed in. I grasped the bouquet firmly round the stiff 
base of the pyramid, and pulled it out before the hidden man 
who had received it knew that it had not been withdrawn by his 
confederate. It was all over in a second, and I had the bouquet. 
Also I had identified the man who pushed it through the curtains 
of the paso , though which among the twenty or twenty-five con- 
cealed bearers had taken it from him I could not tell. 

Whether my act had been wise or foolish, it was done, and the 
paso had moved on, carrying the secret of one beating heart 
under the curtained platform. 

Prying cautiously among the tightly banked flowers, my blood 
quickened as I touched something round and hard, a thing 
about the size of a large orange, fastened into the centre of the 
pyramid by a network of thin wire. Intuition had not played me 
a trick. There was death in this bunch of roses, death for many 
perhaps. Though it was of first importance to get the bomb as 
far away as possible from the King and from Monica, and to 
render it harmless, I would not give up my pursuit of the man in 
the black coat, who was fighting his way through the crowd, only 
a few yards in front of me, — a square-set figure, in the holiday 
clothes of a respectable workman. I saw only his back now, 
every muscle tense in his desire to escape the vengeance on his 
track; but I had seen his face for an instant, and could identify 
it anywhere. 


251 


; THE HAND UNDER THE CURTAINS 

What if, in his desperation, he turned, and in the hope of 
saving himself accused me of the crime he would have committed ? 
It but needed that to ruin me — after Barcelona, and this long 
journey to Seville, where the King was due. Would any explana- 
tion I might make be credited, when the bomb was in my hand ? 

I pushed the crowding thoughts out of my mind. There were 
other things to think of — the bomb itself, what to do with it; 
and the man to be followed. 

Meanwhile I was moving on after that broad back of which I 
must not lose sight, and away from the neighbourhood of the 
royal box. I was in the lane of the procession, close in front of the 
long ranks of occupied chairs, and opposite the tribune. There 
were only two persons abreast in the moving line which carried 
me along, and was driven on by the police, but we were tightly 
packed, pressed against on one side by the knees of people in 
the chairs, on the other by the purple brotherhood preceding 
another paso. The situation seemed desperate, since to give an 
alarm would endanger the crowd as well as jeopardize my future; 
and a panic would be a calamity. 

Suddenly the cry of a water-seller struck my ear sharply. 
u Agua ! — clear as crystal and cold as mountain snow. Agua ! ” 

He was just before me with his earthen vessel. “ Sell me your 
jar,” I said. “ No, I don’t want a glass of water. I want the jar — 
for a curiosity. Twenty pesetas for it.” 

This offer saved questionings. The vessel with its contents was 
worth two pesetas to the vendor, perhaps, and, lest I should 
change my mind, its owner hastily handed over his jar and pock- 
eted my silver. Even now I had to wait for an opening in the 
throng, till I had been pushed on as far as the lane leading from 
the square to the Plaza de San Fernando; and there, to my joy, 
I jostled against Ropes. Without a word of explanation, I said, 
“ Follow that man in the cloth cap with the black coat and red 
tie. Get hold of him; take care he doesn’t knife or shoot you. 
Don’t let him go — and wait for me.” 

This was all Ropes needed. “Right, sir,” said he, and forged 


252 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

after the black back, which in this freer space was gaining dis- 
tance. 

Unexpectedly relieved of my second task, carefully shielding 
the bouquet with the water-jar I worked my way into the lane, 
and struck the head of the earthen vessel against a stone coping. 

The porous clay cracked like an egg-shell, the top coming off 
in one piece, with a few flying splinters; and I pressed the bou- 
quet deep into the water. 

This was the best I could do at the moment, though, if the 
bomb was made with picric acid, I had accomplished nothing. 
I could only hope; and pressing on I came up with Ropes, who 
had collared his man and jammed him against a wall. 

Not a sound had the wretch uttered. He knew that, if he resist- 
ed, he would be instantly denounced and torn to pieces by a 
crowd not likely to wait for clear proof of such an accusation. 
Since he had failed, it was better to trust to the mercy of his cap- 
tor and of the police than to the thousands wild with enthusiasm 
for the King. Fortunately for him, as for us, the crowd had some- 
thing better to do than stop to watch what they took for some 
trifling private quarrel. 

“He tried to knife me,” said Ropes; “but I stopped that. 
Knife’s in my pocket. What next, sir ? ” 

It was characteristic that he did not ask what the man had 
done. 

“Give the brute up to the police,” I answered in English. 
“ He was with another chap whom I’ve lost, in a plot to throw a 
bomb at the royal box; and the bomb’s in this water-jar.” 

For the first time Ropes’ face lost its imperturbable expression. 
“What, sir!” he exclaimed, “after your troubles — excuse my 
mentioning them — you concern yourself in an affair like this ! ” 

“ I’ve no choice. We can’t let this beast escape. If they have 
him, the police may get his mate. He looks a coward and sneak.” 

“ Beg pardon, sir, you have a choice. I’ve got the man. Give 
me the jar with the bomb, and I’ll take the whole thing on my 
shoulders with the police, though it’s a shame you should lose 


THE HAND UNDER THE CURTAINS <2j3 

the credit. I’ve a clean bill ; chauffeur to Mr. R. Waring, Ameri- 
can newspaper correspondent. No need to bring you into it.” 

“ If you’re blown up by the bomb ” 

“Would get blown up just the same sticking to you, for I 
would stick like a burr, sir. (Now, no good wriggling, you beast, 
or gabbling about a mistake. There’s no mistake, and you won’t 
get away!) Better tell him what’s in that jar, sir — my Spanish 
doesn’t run as far — and that’ll quiet him.” 

“ You can’t manage the man and the jar.” 

“ Could manage two of each. There’s a couple of civil guards. 
Now, if you’ve any kindness for me, sir, let go that jar; and don’t 
be seen with me.” 

I gave Ropes his way. But I lingered near enough to watch the 
scene which followed; and had that innocent-looking jar been 
broken, or had the contents of the soaked bouquet exploded of 
its own accord, I should have been near enough to share rr.y 
chauffeur’s fate. 

• He explained in broken Spanish, eked out with gesture; and 
the fact that he was English, with the most honest of English 
faces to vouch for his sincerity, helped him. The man in his grasp 
was Catalan, which was not in his favour at Seville. The civil 
guards looked at the jar with respectful interest, but did not offer 
to take it; and, after a moment of lively conversation, Ropes and 
his captive marched rapidly away with the men in red, black, and 
white. 

At least, whatever happened now, the King was safe; and 
Monica was safe. 

It was not until eight o’clock, when I went to the quiet hotel 
where we had appointed to meet and dine, that I found out any- 
thing more. Then they told me that the King returned to his box 
after walking in the procession, and that, soon after, Dick had 
been surprised by a visit from a member of the police in plain 
clothes. The man had come to the O’Donnels’ box, inquired if 
the American gentleman were Mr. Waring, asked if he had a 


254 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


chauffeur named Peter Ropes, and being answered in the affirma- j 
tive had told the story of the bomb. Dick had then gone with the 
policeman to see Ropes, had made a statement concerning him- I 
self, his business, his car, his chauffeur, his occupation in life, 
and the friends with whom he was staying. All had proved satis- 
factory. Ropes had been thanked by the police for his promptness 
and presence of mind, and threatened with active gratitude from 
higher quarters. Both had been asked to remain within reach for 
a few days ; and the episode was over. 

But it was not until they heard my part of the story that Dick 
or the O’Donnels knew precisely where and how Ropes had come 
into the drama. 


XXXI 


BEHIND AN IRON GRATING 

* 6 AY, ” remarked Dick in a stage whisper, “ tliere’d be a 
! big drop in the bee industry if all the world turned 

Protestant and bought no more great wax candles.” 

We were standing inside the Moorish arch of the 
Puerta del Pardon, in the Court of Oranges. Beyond, where the 
stuffed crocodile swung in a light breeze, was the entrance to the 
cathedral, black as the mouth of a cave. The wind which rocked 
that huge reptile — the gift of a disappointed Sultan — sent the 
petals of ten thousand orange blossoms drifting over our heads 
in a perfumed snow-storm. Past us trooped a dark-robed 
brotherhood, each man with his tall candle raining wax on the 
grass-grown stones of the old court. 

This it was which had drawn forth Dick’s reflection; but I 
scarcely heard his words. I was watching for Monica; and my 
last chance must come soon if it were to come at all. 

Pilar and her father were not with us. They had gone into the 
cathedral, where they had secured seats not far from the royal 
chapel, and in the best position to hear the Miserere. Though it 
was early still, not quite nine o’clock, vast crowds were gathering 
and it was possible, they thought, that Carmona and his guests 
were already in their places. If they were seen there. Colonel 
O’Donnel would send out a messenger (a man employed in the 
cathedral) with a word for me. 

Earlier, this person had come to the hotel, where he had been 
told to look well at me that he might not fail to recognize me 
again. And Dick and I had not stood on sentinel duty for fifteen 

2 55 


256 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

minutes when he appeared, beating through the opposing tide 
of the multitude as it swept towards the cathedral. 

“ His worship the Colonel O’Donnel, wished their worships the 
two sefioritos, to know that those they wished to find were not 
visible in the cathedral.” 

“ Could they be there, and invisible ? ” I asked. 

“ The cathedral is very dimly lighted ; and they might not be 
seen if they were in some chapel. There are several with many 
people in them, and the doors are locked. ” 

“ Is that allowed ? ” 

“ The people have given something to a verger not to let others 
in. I have power of the same kind, if any sehor wished me to 
use it. ” 

“Here they come!” whispered Dick. “ Carmona, Lady Vale- 
Avon, and Lady Monica. ” 

We stepped farther back into shadow, though such precaution 
was hardly needed. It was so dim in the Court of Oranges 
that the crowd groped its way over the cracked, uneven pave- 
ment. Only because they were close upon us, and he was watch- 
ing, had Dick been able to make out the faces we knew. 

“Stop with us,” I said to Colonel O’DonneFs messenger. 
“ You shall have a hundred pesetas if you will open the door of 
an empty chapel for me, and lock it again when I give the word. ” 

“ But I fear there are no empty ones — ” he began. 

“ Then make one empty. Can you do that — for a hundred 
pesetas ? ” 

“ Yes, senor, I think I can. ” 

By this time Monica, still in her black mantilla, had flitted 
past us between her mother and the Duke, but we were following. 
Dim as it was in the court, the moon looked out from behind 
the Giralda tower, and it was not dark enough for my project. 
Inside the cathedral, however (save where blazed the Holy 
Week monument, an illuminated temple of white and gold), 
was a mysterious darkness. Not the hundreds of great war: 
candles sufficed to light the aisles in that vast forest of stone. 


BEHIND AN IRON GRATING " 257 

.i 

Stumbling, groping to pass through a hanging veil of shadow, * 
thousands of men and women drifted aimlessly to and fro, them- 
selves black as the shadows they fought, save here and there some 
soldier whose uniform waked a brief flame of red and gold, or a 
hooded brother who glowed purple under a lighted pillar. 

Purposely we pushed against the people before us, so that in a 
space black as a lake of ink the trio we followed was separated. 
The rush of people from behind was so sudden — so well 
managed by us, — that it took the Duke unawares. The three 
were caught in the eddy, divided, and before they could come 
together again I had my arm through Monica’s, and was drag- 
ging her away, the messenger clinging to me closely. 

“ Don’t be frightened, ” I said. “ It’s I — Ramon. I have to 
speak with you. ” 

She looked up at me, her pale face dim as a spirit’s in the dark. 
“Shame!” she stammered brokenly. “To force me like this — 
you, who have — ” 

“Done nothing except love you too well; and you must give 
me the chance to win you back. You owe it to me, ” I said almost 
fiercely; and she was silenced. 

“Monica! where are you?” I heard Lady Vale- Avon’s voice 
call, and could have thanked her for giving me the direction to 
avoid. 

“Take us to that empty chapel quickly,” I said to the man. 
Then he, who would have known how to find his way in that 
stone forest blindfold, steered us through the sea of people, 
and into a haven beyond the waves. Not a chapel was lighted; 
but as my eyes grew used to the gloom I could see faces on the 
other side of the tall, shut gates of openwork iron which we 

“ I have the key of this one. I will promise the people a better 
place if they’ll come out,” whispered the messenger, stopping 
before a pair of these closed doors, and unlocking it with a great 
key. 

I heard him speciously informing a group of shadows that 


258 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

they would be too far from the music to hear it well. He had a 
friend who would open another chapel nearer. Eagerly ten or 
twenty persons snapped at the bait, flocked out, and the instant 
their backs were turned, I half dragged, half carried Monica in. 
Then before she could escape, if she had wished to try, the great 
iron gates were shut and locked upon us. 

“ They will be looking everywhere for you, ” I said. “ Come 
with me to the back where it is so dark that no one can see us. 
This chapel must seem to be empty. ” 

“ I want to be found , 99 the girl answered cruelly. “ I’m going 
to marry the Duke.” 

“If you love him and not me, I shan’t lift my hand to keep 
you , 99 I said. “ The other night I believed it was so, and made 
up my mind to trouble you no more. But Miss O’Donnel said — ” 

“Miss O’Donnel!” exclaimed Monica. “I wonder you can 
speak of her to me. ” 

Her voice quivered with angry scorn, yet my heart leaped 
with joy at the words which confirmed Pilar’s suspicions and 
my hopes. 

“She’s as loyally your friend as I am loyally your lover,” 
I assured her. “Now listen. There are things which you must 
hear; and if when you’ve heard them you ask me to take you to 
your mother and Carmona, I’ll obey instantly. ” Then, without 
giving her time to cut me short, I began to talk of the letter I had 
written at Manzanares, and how I sent it, and what it had said. 
“ Did you get it ? ” I asked. 

“ No such letter as that. It was a very different one — a 
horrible letter. Oh, Ramon! if it were true; if you had been true! 
If you could have gone on loving me ! ” She broke into sobbing, 
and hid her face between her hands. 

“Don’t dare to doubt that I did, and always will. Tell me 
what the letter said?” I pulled her hands down, too roughly 
perhaps, and held them fast in mine. 

She tried to check her sobs. “I could show you the letter if 
there were a light. Since that day I’ve carried it with me, so that 


BEHIND AN IRON GRATING 259 

I could look at it sometimes, and have strength to hate you if my 
heart failed.” 

“ My own darling — mine again, ” I soothed her. “ It’s been 
a horrible plot. If that letter was not full of love and longing for 
you, it was forged; no doubt after the handwriting of the one 
I really sent.” 

“ You mean my mother — would do a thing like that ? ” 

“She might have justified it by telling herself that the end 
sanctified the means. ” 

“ I know — she was ready to do almost anything to turn me 
against you, ” Monica admitted, leaning against me so confiding- 
ly that all I had suffered was forgotten. “ I couldn’t have believed 
this of her; but — she did tell me the night before Manzanares 
that at Toledo she heard you calling Pilar O’Donnel, ‘darling.’ 
‘Young Mr. O’Donnel seems very fond of his sister,’ mother 
said, looking straight at me, though she seemed to speak in- 
nocently. ‘ I heard him call her “ darling girl. ” ’ You can imagine 
how I felt ! But I hoped she was mistaken, or that she’d invented 
it to make me unhappy; so I wouldn’t let myself be very unhappy, 
only a little distressed. Because, you know, Miss O’Donnel is 
awfully pretty and perfectly fascinating. Mother said, the night 
we were at Manzanares, that she was one of those girls whom 
most men fall irresistibly in love with; and — and I loved you 
so much, I couldn’t help being jealous. ” 

“ As if any man could even see poor little Pilar, when you were 
near!” I exclaimed, forgetting Dick’s difference of opinion. 

“ Oh, I had faith in you, then. But next morning that pretty 
Mariquita handed me a letter, which I was sure was from you, 
as she hid it behind a tin of hot water. I was taking it, when 
mother saw, and snatched it away. You can’t imagine the 
things I said to her, to make her give it back. I was so furious, 
that for once in my life I wasn’t in the least afraid, and I would 
have tried to rush past her and run out to you, when she’d re- 
fused to give the letter up, but I wasn’t dressed. My room had 
no door of its own. I had to go through mother’s room to y. t 


260 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


out; and before I knew what she was doing, she’d slammed the 
door between us, locking it on her side. I hadn’t even a proper 
window, only a little barred, square thing, high up in the wall. 
I couldn’t scream for help, even if I hadn’t been ashamed to 
make a scene in a strange hotel ; so what was I to do . 

“ She kept me there, wild with rage against her, for quite an 
hour after I was dressed and ready to dart out when I had the 
chance; but at last she unlocked the door, looking very grave. 

‘ I’ve opened your letter,’ she said, ‘and read it, as it was my 
duty and my right to do. It is different from what I expected, 
and I’ve decided after all that it’s as well you should have it.’ 

“Then she handed me a tom envelope, and I recognized it 
as the one we had crumpled up between us when she snatched 
it away. Your handwriting was on it, and I never doubted it 
was yours inside, though it looked as if you’d written in a hurry, 
with a bad pen. No name was signed; but the letter said you 
thought it best to tell me, without waiting longer, that you feared 
we’d both been hasty and made a mistake in our feelings. Our 
meeting was romantic, and we’d been carried away by our youth 
and hot blood. Now you’d had time to see that it would be un- 
wise of me to give up a man like the Duke of Carmona for one 
unworthy enough to have fallen in love with another girl. 
Accordingly, you released me from all obligations, and took it 
for granted that you were also free. Then you bade me good-bye, 
wishing me a happy future in case your car and the Duke’s 
happened to go on by different ways. Do you wonder I tried to 
hate you, and that I said ‘yes’ the very next night, when the Duke 
asked me again if I wouldn’t change my mind and marry him ? ” 

For answer, I caught her against my breast, and we clung to 
each other as if we could never part. 

“ Such a promise is no promise, ” I said at last. “ I have you, 
and I don’t mean to let you go, lest I lose you for ever. Monica, 
will you trust yourself to me, and run away with me to-night ? ” 

“ Yes, ” she whispered. “ I daren’t go back to them. But what 
she l 1 we do?” 


261 


BEHIND AN IRON GRATING 

“ I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, ” I said. “ My car isn’t 
far off. Colonel O’Donnel and Pilar, who’d do anything for you 
and me, are in the cathedral. Just outside this chapel the man 
who locked us in is waiting for my signal to open the door. 
With the O’Donnels and Dick Waring to see you through, will 
you motor with me to Cadiz, take ship for Gibraltar, and marry 
me on English soil?” 

“ Suppose there should be no ship for days ? ” she hesitated. 

“ There is one nearly every day; but at worst I can hire a boat 
of some sort. ” 

“ Once we were in Gibraltar, you’d be out of reach if the Duke 
tried to take revenge, ” she said. “ Yes, I will go ! I love you and 
I can’t give you up again. Oh, Ramon, I never would have 
promised to marry him, if I hadn’t wanted to show you that — 
that I didn’t care, and that there was someone who wanted me 
very much, if you didn’t. ” 

“ How like a woman ! ” I exclaimed, laughing — for I could 
laugh now. 

“ He has only kissed my hand, ” she went on, “ and I hated 
even that. ” 

“ Yet you’re wearing his brooch, ” a returning flash of jealousy 
made me say; “and a mantilla, to please him. ” 

“ The brooch is his mother’s. So is the mantilla. She at least 
has been kind ; so I let her put them both on for me to-day, when 
she asked. ” 

“ Kind ? When there’s time I’ll tell you one or two things. 
But now there’s no time for anything except to take you away. ” 

“Listen! The Miserere has begun,” she said. “Has it been 
long ? I heard it only now. Can we get out before it’s over ? ” 

“ Of course we can — though not quite as easily, perhaps, 
as if the crowd were moving with us. However, we can’t afford 
to wait. ” 

“What wonderful music!” Monica whispered. “I wish I 
dared to feel it were blessing us. ” 

“ Yes, feel it so, ” I said, and voluntarily was silent to listen 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


2G2 

for an instant to the melodious flood which swept from aisle to 
aisle in golden billows. Out from the wave of organ music and 
men’s voices, boyish soprano notes sprayed high, flinging their 
bright crystals up, up, until they fell, shattered, from the vaulted 
ceiling of stone. 

From each dimly seen column shot forth one of those slender- 
stemmed, flaming white lilies of light, such as had bloomed in 
Our Lady’s garden, as the pasos moved blossoming through the 
streets. It seemed as if they might have been gathered and re- 
planted here, to lighten the darkness; and as the music soared 
and sank, its waves set the lily-flames flickering. 

I peered out, and saw my man hovering near. In the gloom 
he did not catch the signal I gave him with my hand, but when I 
shook a handkerchief between the gratings he came quickly. 
As he unlocked the doors I slid the promised bribe into his palm ; 
and having glanced about to make sure as far as possible that 
we were not watched, I called Monica. 

“ Take us out by the nearest way, ” I said; and the man began 
to hurry us officiously through the crowd. 

Monica clung to me tightly, and I could feel the tremblings 
that ran through her body. My heart was pounding too; for it is 
when the ship is nearest home, after a stormy voyage, that the 
captain remembers he has nerves. It seemed too marvellous to 
be true, that the girl was mine at last, and yet — what could 
separate us, now that I held her close against my side, and she 
was ready to go with me, out of her world into mine ? 

“ This way, this way, senorito, ” our guide warned me, pluck- 
ing at my arm as I steered ahead, confused by a thousand moving 
shadows. I followed involuntarily, brushing sharply against a 
tall man in conical capucha and trailing robe of blue. He turned, 
his masked face close to mine, so close that even in the dusk I 
caught a flash of glittering eyes. Then, giving me a sudden push, 
he cried out, “Help — murder! An anarchist — a free-thinker! 
To the rescue!” 

It was Carmona’s voice, and I knew instantly that he must 


BEHIND AN IRON GRATING 


263 


have borrowed this dress from some friend in the cathedral — 
perhaps a member of the cofradia to which he himself belonged 
— so that he could search for me and Monica, without being 
seen by us. 

Thrusting the girl behind me, yet keeping her close, I hurled 
him away, but he sprang at me again, and this time something 
glittered in his right hand. I fought with him for it, and pulled 
a slim length of steel up through his closed fingers, so that the 
sharp dagger-blade must have cut him to the bone. He gave a 
cry, and relaxed his grasp; but though he was disabled for the 
instant a dozen men in the crowd, which swirled round us now, 
caught and held me fast. Monica was wrenched from me; the 
dagger had fallen to the ground (but not before I had seen it 
was of Toledo make) ; the figure in the blue capucha was swept 
out of my sight, and I was fighting like a madman in a strait- 
jacket for freedom. 


XXXII 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 

I T was a mouse who gnawed a hole in the net that en- 
tangled the lion. 

Now, I am no lion in importance, nor was Colonel O’Don- 
nel’s messenger of as little significance as a mouse; yet he 
was the last creature to whom I would have looked for succour 
in a moment of stress. Nevertheless to him I owed my rescue. 

“ A mistake, a mistake,” he chirped, jumping about, bird-like, 
just outside the circle of struggling men. “I am a verger here; 
this gentleman was with me. He did nothing. He is a most respec- 
table and twice wealthy person, a tourist whom I guide. He is 
innocent — no anarchist, no free-thinker. That other — that 
pretended brother — has made a practical joke. See, he has run 
away to escape consequences. There is nothing against this noble 
senor; you have it on the word of a verger.” 

Because it was bewilderingly dark, and they might have got 
the wrong man; because, too, the verger was probably right, and 
it had been a joke played upon them by a person who had now 
disappeared, the twelve or fifteen men who surrounded me 
fell back shamefacedly, glad on second thoughts to melt away 
before they could be identified and reproached for disturbing 
the public peace, and spoiling the music to which their King 
listened. 

I was free, but I would not leave the cathedral yet, for my hope 
was to find Monica again. I wandered in every direction, while 
the verger went off to bring Dick and the O’Donnels to meet me 
in the Orange Court. 


284 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 


265 


Pilar’s delight in the first part of my story was dashed by the 
sequel. Of course, she said, it must come right in the end, since 
Monica and I understood each other at last. But just for the 
moment everything seemed difficult. The Duke was sure now 
that I was Casa Triana, and not Cristobal O’Donnel. He would 
almost certainly make all the trouble he could, and a man of his 
influence could make a good deal. As his attempt to stick a dagger 
into me — by way of a quick solution — had been covered by 
the capucha of a cofrad a , I could not take revenge by laying a 
counter accusation. I might say I had recognized his voice, and 
that I thought I had recognized the dagger bought in Toledo; 
but I could prove nothing, and the Duke would score. 

Still, as the Cherub remarked consolingly, he could not do 
much worse than force me out of Spain. Neither I, nor anyone 
else, had ever said in so many words that I was Cristobal O’Don- 
nel. If people had taken my identity for granted because of a few 
round-about hints, and because for a joke I had borrowed a 
friend’s uniform for a day or two, nothing very serious could be 
made out of that after all; and as Cristobal really was on leave, 
he need not be involved. He was a good officer, whose services 
were valued, and I was not to worry lest harm should come upon 
him. I need think only of Monica and of myself. Had I formed 
any idea of what to do next ? 

“ I must get Monica out of Carmona’s house,” I said. 

“You’ll have to lie in wait and snatch her from under their 
noses next time they show them,” suggested Dick; “ unless — ” 

“Unless?” 

“ Carmona keeps his indoors until he’s arranged to have yours 
politely deported.” 

“ I can’t be got rid of in an hour.” 

“ You could to-morrow.” 

“ I’m afraid you can,” sighed the Cherub, “ and that, though I 
shall do my best, I may be powerless to help you.” 

“ What if it were known that he saved the King yesterday ? ” 
Pilar asked her father. 


266 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“ The King is going away to-morrow. You know, he’s o ff to 
England in a few days. Besides, the incident to-day will be hush- 
ed up. The King will know, of course, and a few others; but it 
will be kept out of the papers, — anyhow, until they’ve got their 
hands on both the men concerned.” 

“I’ve still got to-night,” I said, “and it’s not eleven yet. I 
hoped that in the confusion Monica had given her mother and 
Carmona the slip, and that if I waited here I might find her again. 
I thought she might try to get back to the chapel where we had 
our talk, trusting that I’d look for her there. But she didn’t come, 
and I searched everywhere in vain before I tried watching the 
crowd pass through the Court of Oranges. Now, I’m certain that 
Carmona or Lady Vale-Avon must have pounced upon her while 
I was surrounded, and forced her away. No doubt they’re at 
home long ago. Why shouldn’t I appeal to the English consul, 
and say that the Duke of Carmona’s detaining an English girl 
in his house against her will ? ’ 

“No use,” said the Cherub. “She’s under age, and she’s with 
her mother, who’s visiting the Duchess.” 

“ Then I’ll go to Carmona’s door and make such a row that 
they’ll be obliged to let me in.” 

“You’d get into a police cell instead. A man’s house is his 
castle, especially when it’s a palace and he’s a Duke.” 

I was silenced. I knew the Cherub was right; but it seemed 
monstrous that in this twentieth century such tyranny should 
divide a girl from her lover. 

When I had thought for a moment I said, “ Anyhow, I shall 
go to the house and try to bribe a servant. Once in, I’d not come 
out without Monica. I’ve done two satisfactory things to-day by 
bribery and corruption, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t bring it 
off the third time.” 

“ The Duke’s servants have been in the employ of the family 
for years, and their fathers and grandfathers before them. No 
money would bribe them to deceive their master and mistress,” 
said the Cherub. 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 


267 


“I shouldn’t have thought either the Duke or his mother 
capable of inspiring such devotion.” 

“ It isn’t devotion — it’s fear. To an unfaithful servant in that 
house — well, almost anything might happen.” 

“ Have you any advice to give me, then ? ” I asked, in despair. 

The Cherub shook his head. “ The prudent thing would be to 
go away to-night, and trust Lady Monica’s loyalty. She can’t be 
forced into marrying the Duke, you know; and if she breaks the 
engagement he’ll have to let her alone, for dignity’s sake.” 

“That might be prudent; but of course I won’t do it.” 

“Of course you won’t,” returned the Cherub, as if it went 
without saying. 

“Very well, then; matters are desperate, and desperate reme- 
dies must be tried ; things can’t be worse than they are. I shall hang 
about Carmona’s house early in the morning, and when the first 
person comes out I’ll go in. If I don’t come out, you will know 
what’s become of me; and I don’t suppose in these days even a 
Duke can kill a man without getting into trouble ? ” 

“ He would merely have you arrested as a housebreaker,” said 
the Cherub. 

“ Well, I should have seen Monica first, and perhaps have got 
her on the right side of the door.” 

“We’ll have a go at the business together,” said Dick. “It 
would be more sociable.” 

“All right, thank you,” said I. “Then something’s settled; 
and these best of friends can go home and sleep.” 

“ Sleep ! ” echoed Pilar scornfully. “ Oh, if I were a man, and 
could do something to punish the Duke ! ” 

“I wish you could set your bull at him,” said Dick. “Only, 
now I think of it, it’s his bull still.” 

Try as we might, it was impossible to persuade either Colonel 
O’Donnel or Pilar that they ought to return quietly to bed, if 
not to sleep. No, they would do nothing of the kind. Besides, no 
properly disposed person within ten miles of Seville would lie in 
bed that night. Processions would go on till early morning. Many 


268 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

people would watch them, or spend the hours till early mass in 
prayer in the cathedral, which would be open all night. Why 
should not the O’Donnel family do as others did ? 

There was no answer to this; and it was finally arranged that, 
if they wished to rest at all, it should be at the hotel in the Plaza 
de San Fernando, where we had dined. That was to be the ren- 
dezvous; and the Cherub would engage the verger we knew to 
watch the Duke’s house in the morning, bringing news of our 
fate to the hotel — if we did not bring it ourselves. 

Never — if I live beyond the allotted threescore years and ten 
— shall I forget that strange night of Holy Thursday in Seville. 

Dick and I wandered through the streets, and in the Plaza de 
la Constitucion, where electric lamps and moonlight mingled 
bleakly, while never-ending cofradias passed. 

A sky of violet was like a veil of silky gauze, and as the moon 
slid down the steeps of heaven the vast dome paled. One by one 
the stars went out like spent matches; dawn was on its way. 
Electric lights flared and died, leaving a pearly dusk more mys- 
terious than any twilight which falls with night. 

The crowds had thinned; but silent brotherhoods moved 
through streets where there was no other sound than the rustling 
of their feet, the tap of their leaders’ silver batons. So faint was 
the dawn-dusk, that they were droves of shadows on their way 
back into night, their candle-lights lost stars. Now and then the 
clink of a baton brought to some half -shuttered window a face, 
to be presently joined by other faces, peering down at the dark 
processions of men and black-robed, penitent women. 

Outside the great east door of the cathedral halted a paso , like 
a huge golden car. Christ was nailed to a cross not yet lifted 
into place. A Roman soldier, of exaggerated height and sardonic 
features, stood reading the parchment with the mocking inscrip- 
tion about to be nailed above the thorn-crowned head. His evil 
mouth was curled in a satirical smile. Two centurions in armour 
sat their impatient horses, and gave directions for raising the 
cross. The effect was startling; for in this pale beginning of light. 


269 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 

and the atmosphere of tingling exaltation which steeped the 
town, it was difficult not to believe that the terrible carved figures 
of wood had life, and that with the eyes of one’s flesh one beheld 
the world’s great tragedy. 

Somehow the impression of horror was but deepened by the 
fact that the bearers had come out from under the curtains of the 
pasOy to take off the large pads they wore on their heads, to drink 
water, and smoke cigarettes with the penitents who had rolled 
up the masks from their pale, damp faces. They might have been 
comrades of the Roman soldiers, in their obliviousness of that 
tortured form on the cross. 

It was not yet five o’clock when Dick and I plunged into the 
cool gloom of the cathedral, passing the spot where Carmona 
had struck at me, and the chapel where I had taken Monica. The 
stones were slippery as the floor of a ballroom, with wax dropped 
from innumerable candles, and the air was heavy with the smoke 
of stale incense. 

The searchlight of dawn could scarcely penetrate the black 
curtains which throughout Holy Week had veiled all but one or 
two windows ; therefore a solitary beam, like a bar of gold, slanted 
in through one superb window. 

The amethysts, emeralds, and rubies of incomparable painted 
glass transformed the yellow bar into a rainbow which streamed 
down the length of the majestic aisle and struck full upon a gold- 
en altar. Then slowly the jewelled band moved from the gold 
carvings, the flames dying as it passed. Travelling, still like a 
searchlight, it found the prostrate forms of sleeping men exhaust- 
ed by their vigils, snatched out of veiling darkness kneeling 
women clad in black, and at last rested on the Holy Week monu- 
ment itself, paled its myriad candles, and made pools of liquid 
gold on the vestments of priests who had knelt all night in adora- 
tion of the Host. 

“ Say,” said Dick, half whispering, c< I don’t gush as a rule; but 
doesn’t it look like the light of salvation coming to save lost souls ? ” 

Not a hotel in Seville had shut its doors that night of Holy 


270 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

Thursday; not a concierge had done more than nod and wake out 
of a broken dream, for there had been an excited coming and 
going through all the dark hours. 

At six o’clock Dick and I were at the fonda, inquiring for Col- 
onel O’Donnel and his daughter. They had come in at two, and 
were now asleep, it seemed ; but had left a note for the senores. 
In this note we were assured that the friendly verger of last night’s 
adventure would be lurking in the neighbourhood of Carmona’s 
house as early as six o’clock, and should we want him we would 
know where he was to be found. 

We took bedrooms, bathed, dressed again, and after hot coffee 
and rolls decided that is was time to go on guard. To be sure, it 
was absurdly early; but by this time the Duke’s household might 
be astir, and we must not risk letting Monica be carried away 
before we had had a chance to practise the gentle art of house- 
breaking. 

The clocks of Seville were spasmodically telling the hour of 
seven when we entered the narrow and dusky lane of the Calle 
de las Duenas. So fast asleep were the shuttered windows that 
our mission seemed a fool’s errand; but as we came in sight of 
the Duke’s closed door the Cherub’s messenger loomed out of 
the shadows. 

Unshaven and haggard, his eyes glittered like black beads in 
the daylight; and he greeted us excitedly. “Senores,” he began, 
“ I was going to look for you at the hotel. A thing has happened. 
The Senor Colonel told me I must watch the house of His Grace 
the Duke, and let you know when you came if anyone had been 
out or in. Who would think of people starting upon a journey 
before the day is awake ? But so it is. The Duke, whom I have 
seen in other years, has gone away in an automobile with his 
honourable mother and two other ladies.” 

“ You are sure it was he ? ” I asked, completely taken aback. 

“Sure, my senorito. The car was a large grey car. And” — 
his face grew sly as a squirrel’s — “ I can tell you where it is 
going, if you would like to know.” 


271 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 

“ I want to know all you can tell,” I said. 

“ Well, the grey car arrived a little before half-past six, I 
should think. In it there was only the young man who drives, 
dressed in leather. 4 What is going to happen ? ’ I asked myself. 
It seemed better to wait and see than run to the hotel to say, 
4 there’s an automobile at the door for the Duke,’ and perhaps 
find it gone, no one could tell where, when I got back. But I do 
not sleep on my feet. There are always ideas running in my head. 
I pretended to be strolling past, and stopping for a look at such 
a fine machine. Perhaps I had matches in my pocket, perhaps 
not ; in any case I asked the young man in leather to give me a light 
for my cigarette. He did, and it was a patural thing to fall 
into talk. 4 You make an early start,’ I said. He nodded. 4 Going 
far ? ’ 4 To Cadiz to-day, by Jerez.’ That is all, honoured senores; 
but I tell it for what it is worth. A few minutes later the grand 
people came out, and the automobile shot away.” 

44 Did they put on luggage ? ” I asked. 

44 All the automobile would hold.” 

44 By Jove!” exclaimed Dick. 44 Carmona’s thrown sand in 
our eyes this time. Who’d have supposed he’d turn tail and run 
away like a coward in the midst of the Holy Week show, with 
the King still in town ? ” 

44 1 was a fool not to expect the unexpected,” I said. 44 If any- 
one except Colonel O’Donnel’s man had told me I should have 
been between two minds whether to accept the story or not. But 
O’Donnel called him a trusty fellow; and he served me well last 
night. If we wait to verify his story, by the time we find out it’s 
true the grey car will have got too long a start. I don’t like Car- 
mona’s stealing off. It looks as if there were something up.” 

44 He showed last night that he was desperate,” said Dick. 44 1 
guess we’d better get on the road before much grass grows.” 

44 You’re the best of friends,” said I. And paying the verger 
w r ell for his services, we hurried back to the hotel to find Ropes 
and have the car got ready. 

It was still very early, and the Cherub and Pilar had not had 


272 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

many hours beauty sleep; but we could not leave for an indefinite 
absence without bidding them good-bye; and we were on our 
way to knock at Colonel O’Donnel’s door when Pilar appeared 
from the room adjoining. 

A moment, and she understood everything. “ You’ll follow ! ” 
she exclaimed, without waiting to hear my plans. 

“And I’ll go with him,” said Dick, looking wistfully at her; 
for he had not had his answer yet, and who could tell when he 
would have it now, or what it would be when it came ? 

“Of course. I knew you would,” Pilar replied. And a light 
leaped up in her dark eyes. If it meant nothing warmer, it meant 
approval. “ You’ll want to go at once. Oh, I am sorry you’ll miss 
the fair. You don’t know what a fairyland Seville is, with miles of 
streets and park roofed in with arches of coloured lights, like 
jewels; and papa has a tent in the gayest place, where we stay all 
day, and see our friends, and it’s such fun visiting the booths and 
side-shows ! But maybe next spring you’ll come back for the feria 
with your bride, Don Ramon; and as for you, Senor Waring — ” 

“ As for me ? ” repeated Dick, anxiously. “ Am I not to come 
back before that ? ” 

“You’re to come back when you like, and — papa will be 
glad to see you,” she answered, just as any conventional little 
senorita might have answered. But at least she had the kindness 
to blush; and I would have moved away to give Dick a last chance 
if at that moment the Cherub had not come out of his room. 

Instantly Pilar dashed into explanations, and between the 
three of us he soon had the history of events. 

No one on earth looks less practical than the dreamy-eyed, 
soft- voiced Cherub; yet it was he who thought of practical de- 
tails which we had forgotten. He it was who reminded us that it 
would not be prudent to take Ropes away from Seville. As the 
man who said he had discovered the bomb, his evidence would 
be wanted, and if he disappeared it would look mysterious. His 
real connection with the Marques of Casa Triana might be un- 
earthed by the police; and because of that miserable affair at 


ON THE ROAD TO CADIZ 


273 


Barcelona, whose consequences were continually cropping up, 
some hideous story might be concocted and believed. 

Dick and I unhesitatingly decided to take the Cherub’s advice, 
and leave Ropes behind. He was engaged in getting the car ready, 
and would no doubt be disappointed to hear that he was to be 
temporarily abandoned ; but he would see the wisdom of such a 
course, and might be trusted to guard my interests. As for Dick, he 
might turn his back on the proceedings in Seville without danger, 
for he posed only as the employer of a man who had found the 
bomb; besides, as I suggested without glancing at Pilar, he could 
come back in a few days in case he were wanted to give evidence. 

Thus it was settled; at eight o’clock we had said good-bye to 
Pilarcita and the Cherub, softening the farewell with a hopeful 
“ au revoir and with Ropes staring disconsolately after us, we 
flashed out of the Plaza de San Fernando. 

I drove, with Dick beside me, for there was no longer need for 
subterfuge. Carmona knew me for what I was, and I could help 
Monica more by defying him than by playing the old waiting 
game, of which I was tired. 

It seemed strange to be racing across country again in the car, 
after those fevered days in Seville. With the steering-wheel in 
my hand, the steady thrum of the motor seemed to say, “You’ll 
do it; you’ll do it; — I’ll help you to do it.” 

The air was made of perfume — orange blossoms and acacias ; 
and the vast flowery plain where Seville is queen gave us a toler- 
able road, on which the car ran lightly. Soaring snow peaks of 
fantastic shapes walled the green arena of rolling meadows, and 
the day was like a day of English June. 

Save for the grey Lecomte, scarcely a motor had we seen since 
leaving Biarritz, except in Madrid; but now, when I tried to 
decipher the road hieroglyphics, the dust showed more than one 
track of pneus. Cars had come to Seville from Madrid for Semana 
Santa , and had evidently run out this way for a spin more than 
once. As I had not Ropes’ detective talent I was unable to dis- 
tinguish the Lecomte’s tyre-marks from others. 


274 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

In sight of the conspicuous church tower at Utrera — ancient 
home of outlaws — we came upon a dusty white line diverging 
to Ecija. Pausing to question a road-mender, I remembered 
Colonel O’Donners story of the Seven Men of Ecija, and the 
curious bond between them and the Dukes of Carmona. But 
what brought the tale to my mind — unless it was the name of 
Ecija on the road-map and signpost, or the fact that we were 
now in the real heart of brigand-land — I could not have told. 

Yes, said the road-mender, he had seen an automobile go by — 
a big one, not long ago, steering as if for Jerez. Was it grey ? He 
would not be sure, but at all events the thing was so grey with 
dust that had there been another colour underneath, no one 
could have seen it. Ladies in the car ? Well, he was not positive, 
for it had gone by like a cannon-ball in a cloud of smoke; but 
there were several persons inside, and it was the only motor 
which had passed him to-day. Several cars had appeared in the 
distance yesterday, but they had turned back on the Seville side 
of Utrera. 

One automobile, a big one, apparently grey, and with several 
persons inside, had gone by at a tremendous pace not long be- 
fore. That sounded as if the car we chased could not be far away. 
Our eyes searched the tell-tale dust, and found the sleek, straight 
trail of a pneu in the midst of wobbling cart tracks. We had but 
to follow that straight trail, then, I said, to come up with Car- 
mona and interfere with his new plans. 

Now we were racing through a wide region of salt marsh, 
where within enclosures grazed hundreds of fierce black bulls, 
sooner or later to die in the arena. The country became desolate, 
and curiously sad. We met no more peasants’ carts or laden 
donkeys as the road began to undulate among the foothills of 
distant mountain ranges. 

“ What an ideal place for a band of Colonel O’Donnel’s ban- 
didos, eh ?” said Dick; then drew in his breath with a sharpness 
that cut the sentence short, as we whirled round a hummock at a 
turning of the road. 


XXXIII 


THE SEVEN MEN OF ECIJA 

C LOSE in front of us was drawn up a large automobile, 
its front wheels mounted on a barrier of rough stones 
built across the highway. Rolled in the dust lay a 
leather-clad chauffeur, limp in unconsciousness or 
death; and with their backs to the car, two young men stood 
bravely defending themselves against seven. 

So suddenly did we burst upon the scene, and so furiously 
had I to put on the brake, that I saw only a wild picture of 
determined faces pale above flashing blades, fierce faces under 
red peasant caps, and carbines used as clubs. Then Dick and I 
were out of the Gloria ; and instead of two there were four against 
seven. 

Where were the revolvers we had bought by Don Cipriano’s 
advice at Madrid, for just such an emergency as this ? — In 
our suit-cases at the Cortijo de Santa Rufina, forgotten from the 
moment of purchase until this moment of need. But, as by one 
accord, each seized a jagged stone which had rolled from the 
barricade, and before we had had time for two consecutive 
thoughts we had joined the strangers, and all four were fighting 
like demons. 

Oddly enough, the seven red caps did not fire their carbines, 
and had apparently directed all their efforts to disarming or 
stunning the automobilists. But at sight of us their tactics 
changed. Surprised at first, their astonishment was burnt up 
by rage. Four of the seven turned upon us, and snatched out 
knives, but quick as light I had wrenched one of them out of a 

275 


276 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

brown hand, giving its owner a smashing blow between the eyes 
with my stone. 

Down he dropped like an ox, and I was ready for another; 
but the blade of a third would have slid between my ribs had 
not one of the seven cried out sharply, “ Stop! A red car — a red 
car. These are the men we want. ” 

“Disable them,” yelled another voice; but it was easier 
said than done. The second’s pause which followed the warning 
shout saved my skin. The brigand’s knife flew; and he got a 
side blow on the temple which sent him spinning. 

We were now four against five; but already the right arm of 
another red cap spouted crimson from the blade in a sword- 
stick which was flashing blue lightning, and another wore a red 
spot on his shirt — a spot which spread and changed its shape. 

There was no time to look at faces. I scarcely saw the features 
of friend or foe, and could not have sworn to the identity of one 
man had my life depended on it. But I knew that two beside 
whom we fought were brave beyond the common, that they 
were worth fighting for and with. We were all four shoulder to 
shoulder now, our backs against the car, though how we had 
won through to that position I could not have told. 

Another red cap had gone down on one knee, cursing, and 
there was a fresh blot of crimson on a dark-stained shirt. We 
four had the advantage now, for we had come to no harm but a 
few bruises and an aching head or two, when suddenly there 
was a howl from the fellow last down, “ El guardia civile ! ” 

It was true. Out of the distance rode two men, dashing to- 
wards us from the direction of Jerez. Far away still, their white, 
black, and red uniforms caught the sun; and guessing from the 
knot of forms swaying round a motor-car that something was 
wrong, the pair spurred their horses to a gallop. 

“ It’s too hot for us ! ” panted the brigand I took for the leader. 
He growled an order; and supporting two of their fallen com- 
rades who were able to help themselves, the uninjured pair 
made oft* towards a small wood where I now saw horses tethered. 


THE SEVEN MEN OF ECIJA 277 

After them we went; but they promptly left their half-disabled 
friends to shift for themselves, and loaded their carbines — so 
lately clubs — with quickness almost incredible. 

An instant later two black muzzles covered us; and the tide 
of battle might after all have turned disastrously, had not the 
shrill ping of a bullet warned the enemy that there was no time 
to waste upon reprisals. 

One of the civil guard had fired from a distance, but with 
precise aim, as a yell of pain announced. A man already wounded 
got another souvenir of the encounter; and out of the seven only 
four could get to their saddles. One limped in the rear, but he 
had lost his carbine; one sat where his comrades had flung him 
in their flight, and the last of the seven — stunned by my stone 
— lay breathing stertorously on the road. 

“ After them — after them ! ” one of the young men who had 
fought so brilliantly shouted now to the civil guards. “Don’t 
let them get away. ” 

For the first time I looked at him with seeing eyes. Then, I 
could hardly stifle an exclamation. It was the King. 

He gave me back look for look, smiling that brave and charm- 
ing smile which has magic in it to transform an enemy into a 
loyal servant. 

I had my cap off now, and so had Dick, who wore the jaunty 
air I had seen him wear in more than one battle. 

“ I have to thank you both, ” said the King. “ And — not 
for the first time. Our cars, as well as ourselves, have met before. 
Wasn’t it — near Biarritz ? ” 

I felt the blood stream up to the roots of my hair. “Your 
Majesty has a King’s memory for faces, ” I stammered. 

“There are faces one doesn’t forget,” said he. “But we’ll 
talk of that presently. Now we have work here.” 

The King’s companion was already down on one knee by the 
side of the chauffeur, pouring aguardiente from a flask into the 
man’s half-open mouth. As for the fellow I had hit, I was sure 
that he would presently come round, but little the worse for wear; 


278 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

and I suggested that Dick and I find a rope in the car, which 
would bind him and the two other half -disabled ones. But the 
King would not let us work alone. He did as much as we, and 
more, before we were joined by the young officer who was his 
friend. 

Discouraged and weak from loss of blood, as well as the loss 
of their carbines and their comrades, the wounded brigands 
made no further fight. But they were silent, save for a muttered 
oath or two, and I made up my mind that the true secret of this 
morning’s work would never be tom from them. 

For there was, of course, a secret. The King, who had not the 
clue which I held, saw that, and wondered why the brigands 
had not wished at first to shoot us. Plainly, their plan had been 
to make captives. 

The obvious idea was that they would have conveyed their 
prisoners to some brigands’ nest in the mountains, in the hope 
of obtaining a rich ransom. But they had evidently expected an 
automobile, or they would not have raised a barricade, just 
round a sharp comer on a particularly lonely piece of road. 

Could they have been lying in wait for the King ? This seemed 
impossible, as he had told no one that he was going out, and the 
expedition had indeed been made on the impulse, in the compan j 
of but one companion beside the chauffeur. He had intended 
to have a spin, and discover the state of the roads as far as 
practicable on the way to Jerez before turning back for the pro- 
cession in the afternoon. And that evening he must return to 
Madrid. No, it was not the King for whom the seven men had 
prepared. 

Who, then, was to have been their prey ? 

I believed that I could have answered this question, but I 
kept silent; and there was no reason why the King should guess 
that I had a suspicion. 

“ At all events, ” he said, “ we have you and your friend to 
thank that the affair was not more serious. I hope we should 
have been able to give a good account of ourselves; but seven 


279 


THE SEVEN MEN OF ECIJA 

against two are long odds. And there seems a fate in it that you 
should have come to me in the nick of time to-day as well as at 
Biarritz. I should like to know your names. ” 

I had dreaded this. Foolishly, perhaps, I felt that I could not 
bear to see the cordial light in his eyes fade to proud coldness, 
as it must when he knew me for a son of the man who had tried 
to place another on his throne. Besides, that I should at such a 
moment announce myself a Casa Triana would seem like 
bidding for pardon as a reward for what I had done. The con- 
fession stuck in my throat; and while I hesitated, Dick spoke. 

“ My friend didn’t mean you to know, sir, ” said he, gabbling 
so fast that I could not stop him; “but this isn’t the second time 
he’s happened to be around when there was a little thing to be 
done for your Majesty, — it’s the third. Yesterday it was he who 
snatched that bomb away from the man under the paso> collared 
the other fellow, and stuck the bomb in a smashed water-jar, 
although he gave the credit to the chauffeur — who, by the way, 
is ‘shover ’ to this car. My friend here is travelling, as you might 
say, incog, for important private reasons, which he’ll want you 
to know some day, sir, if he doesn’t now; and that’s why, when 
Ropes the chauffeur happened along, he made him a present of 
all the praise. ” 

The King flushed, looking me straight in the eyes with an 
expression so noble and at the same time so kind that, had we 
lived a century or two ago, when men were not ashamed to show 
their true feelings, I should have thrown myself at his feet. 

“ I thank you again, ” he said, “ for everything. I’m glad to 
know you are Spanish, even if I am to know no more. But am I 
to know no more ? ” 

“Will your Majesty pardon me,” I asked, “if I beg to re- 
main nameless for the present?” 

“I could pardon you far graver crimes,” the King said 
smiling; “and I’m sure your reason, whatever it is, reflects 
nothing but honour on yourself. I owe you a debt. Claim it’s 
payment in my gratitude whenever you will; the sooner the 


280 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

better. And if you want a friend, you’ll know where to find 
one. ” 

He held out his hand, and when I took it, shook mine warmly 
in English fashion. Something else he was about to say on a 
second thought, when his friend — who had now restored the 
chauffeur to dazed consciousness — drew his attention. “ Sir, ” 
he said, “ the guardia civile are coming back without prisoners. ” 

A minute or two later the two men had galloped up to us, one 
wounded in the cheek. They had chased the brigands, exchanging 
shots, until suddenly, having passed beyond a clump of trees and 
a few lumpy hummocks of sand, the band had vanished as if by 
magic. The civil guards had explored the spot for some cleverly 
concealed hiding-place, which they knew must exist within 
the space of two hundred metres, but they had found nothing. 
And as they had had no time to ascertain the condition of the 
men left for us to deal with, they had thought it best to return 
lesc the wounded enemy prove not to be hors de combat after all. 

Fortunately the distance from this lonely spot to Jerez was 
not more than thirty kilometres, and within three miles there was 
a farm. Here a cart could be got to take the wounded brigands 
into the town ; and from Jerez a posse of men would be imme- 
diately sent out to scour the country for the escaped brigands. 

The King, whom the guardia civile recognized with respect- 
ful surprise, was now anxious to get back to Seville, where he 
Was due in the royal box for the Good Friday procession, and 
must appear by five o’clock at latest. He delayed only long 
enough to be sure that his chauffeur was not hurt beyond a 
slight concussion of the brain, to speak a few kind words to the 
civil guard, and to say a significantly emphasized “ Au revoir ” 
to Dick and me. Then, taking the wheel himself, whilst the half- 
dazed chauffeur lay in the tonneau, he backed the big, reddish- 
brown car off the barricade, and darted away in a cloud of dust 
at a good forty miles an hour. 

It was left for us to do what we could to advance the civil 
guard with their task; and though we had already lost too much 


THE SEVEN MEN OF ECIJA 


281 


time for my peace of mind, it was our plain duty to help those 
who had helped us. When we had levelled the rough barricade 
we reluctantly bundled the wounded men into our tonneau, and 
going at a pace which enabled the civil guards to gallop close 
beliind us, we steered for the farm of which they had spoken. 
There the brigands were piled into a cart in a buzz of excitement; 
and leaving them to follow, presided over by one mounted guard 
leading his comrade’s horse, we took the other on to Jerez in 
our car, so that the search party might be organized the sooner. 

Sometimes virtue brings its own reward, and mine came when 
I learned that our new companion had met an automobile going 
at a great pace towards Jerez. It had gone so fast that, in the dust, 
he was not sure of the colour or number of persons inside, but 
he thought that he had seen several ladies. 

If he could he would have compelled us to stop in Jerez and 
give evidence of the attack by brigands; but laughingly we told 
him that, rather than be delayed again, we would spill him out 
by the roadside and vanish into space before he could set the 
telegraph to work. As for the brigands, the leader with three 
others had escaped, and the faces of those captured were not 
known to the guard. But the fact that they had been seven was 
significant in his opinion ; and he believed that they would prove 
to be men of Ecija, forming a band officially supposed to be 
defunct. 

Should we give a hint of our suspicions, we knew well that 
every effort would be made to detain us at Jerez, and such a 
catastrophe I would have avoided at almost any price, unless 
there had been a hope of handicapping Carmona. But that there 
was no such hope I was as sure as that the abortive plan had 
been organized by him. 

How he had communicated so quickly with his friends the 
Seven, I did not pretend to say, unless he had known where to 
find their leader, and visited him this morning in his car. What- 
ever he had done, however, he would not have been fool enough 
to jeopardize his reputation for the sake of laying me by the heels. 


282 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

The fact that he had claimed the aid of bandits proved that he 
wished to dispose of me without implicating himself, though 
why he had not adopted the far simpler plan of denouncing me 
as Casa Triana to the police, I could not conceive. Still, there 
was ingenuity in this idea. If a young man — or two young men 
— were captured in a lonely place known to be infected with brig- 
ands ; if such young men were held for ransom, and kept out of the 
way for weeks or months, what was all that to a Duke of Carmona ? 

What if, when one of those young men appeared in the world 
again (minus an ear or a finger, perhaps), he told a fairy story 
about the enmity of the Duke, and reminded the public of an old 
nurse’s tale concerning a bond between the house of Carmona 
and the leader of the seven famous brigands ? Who would believe 
him ? Who would not think it a silly and spiteful attempt on the 
part of an embittered man to injure a grandee of Spain ? 

Carmona would not have taken the whole Seven into his con- 
fidence, that was certain. He would have appealed to the leader 
alone. That leader had escaped; and even if he were captured 
he would not betray the Duke. Why should he, since it would 
not help himself; whereas, if he were loval, Carmona would se- 
cretly use influence to lighten his lot ? 

Dick and I discussed these matters in English, under the nose 
of the civil guard, as I drove on to Jerez; and shrewd Yankee 
as he was, for once he accepted the Spanish point of view. If we 
were to “get even with Carmona and pay him out for this,” 
it must be in some less clumsy way, Dick agreed. 


XXXIV 
THE RACE 


I T was lucky for us that the guard had met an automobile 
between the brigands’ barricade and Jerez, otherwise we 
should have been at sea. The road-mender near Utrera had 
seen but one car, and that might have been the King’s; but 
now we had something to hope for still ; and Dick and I resolved 
to get out of Jerez as soon as possible, provided we could learn 
that the car we followed had gone on. If we lingered, the civil 
guard might, after all, think it his duty to have us detained, and 
we did not wish to give him time to change his mind. 

“It’s a pity, though,” said Dick, with a thirsty sigh. “I’ve 
always had a sneaking fancy that if I ever came to Spain I’d 
i stop at Jerez — ‘ the place where the sherry comes from ’ — 
j and potter about in huge, cool bodegas, sampling golden wine 
1 from giant casks with queer names on them. Only think what it 
would feel like to-day to have a stream of mellow ‘ Methusalem ’ 
trickling over our dusty lips and down our dry throats ? Great 
Scott ! I daren’t dwell on it, since it can’t be. But it’s a grand 
chance missed.” 

Almost as he spoke we flashed into a neat white town, with 
green glimpses of patios ; and groaning, Dick shut his eyes upon 
a great bodega where the famous names of Gonzalez and Byass 
loomed black on white. 

We dumped our civil guard at the entrance to a side street 
which was, we hinted, rather narrow for automobiles, and, not 
waiting for his grateful adieux, we darted on, asking a bootblack 
the way to the best hotel. At the “ Sign of the Swan ” we paused 

283 


284 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

just long enough to give the Gloria water, and to find out that a 
motor-car had stopped for a few moments about two hours ago. 
There were ladies inside, but they had not got out. A gentleman, 
covered with dust, had ordered sherry and biscuits, which he and 
the chauffeur had themselves carried to the other passengers, 
appearing rather impatient with the waiters. This gentleman had 
spoken Spanish in the hotel, but had been heard conversing in 
English with his friends. They had remained about fifteen min- 
utes, and had then gone on. A waiter remembered seeing the 
chauffeur and his master consulting a road-map, and had heard 
the word “ Cadiz ” spoken. 

This gave us an apparently unoroken clue, and half expecting 
to be caught in a police-trap, we slipped stealthily out of Jerez, 
with a spurt of speed as streets were left behind. 

Still we were watched by purple-robed, guardian mountains, 
sitting in conclave. A running fire of poppies swept the fields 
between w.hich we travelled, while distant meadows were paved 
with gold, or with forget-me-not blue like squares of the sky’s 
mosaic fallen out. The air grew luminous as the crystal bell which 
hangs over the lagoons of Venice; and with the subtle change of 
atmosphere we had in our nostrils the first tang of the sea. 

Here and there a strip of lush green was belted with cactus, 
but we were driving through salt marshes, and round us spread 
a plain piled with strange, shining pyramids of salt, white and 
bright as hills of diamond dust. Then, suddenly, a broken line of 
turrets and domes and spires was cut in gleaming pearl against 
the sky; and it was not the opal clearness of the air alone which 
took the memory to Venice. Here was the same ebb and flow of 
salt water in glittering lagoons, the same dark, waving lines of 
seaweed, the same wide stretch of sapphire beyond the alabaster 
domes. 

For Spain, the road was good, and we glided smoothly through 
the pretty old town of Puerta de Santa Maria, with its big bode- 
gas and Byronic associations. Across the Guadalquivir, where it 
tumbled into the Atlantic, dashing through an aromatic forest of 


THE RACE 


285 


umbrella pines we came out at Queen Isabel’s white, Moorish 
looking Puerto Real. Thence, distant Cadiz on its rock appeared 
to change position bewilderingly, like a group of fairy castles, 
as we swept round the rim of that semicircular bay where once 
the Phoenicians traded in metals of England, and amber of the 
Baltic; where the ships of the Great Armada lay; and where 
Essex wrought destruction. 

At San Fernando I was assailed by doubt. What if, after all, 
the car we sought had not gone to Cadiz, but had here taken the 
coast road to Algeciras ? The great conference was only just over, 
there; tourists of all nations were flocking to the town, attracted 
by curiosity ; and as the place boasted the most beautiful hotel in 
Spain, it seemed more likely that in flying from Seville the Duke 
should choose Algeciras instead of Cadiz. But some fishermen, on 
that rope of sand which binds Cadiz to the mainland, had seen a 
car pass a few hours before. Yes, only one; and they thought it 
was grey. It had four or five passengers, and was going to Cadiz. 

Thither we spurted, Dick studying a plan of the city as we flew 
along the straight road embanked above the sand. By the time 
we arrived in silver Cadiz he was able to say in which direction 
I must drive to find the chief hotel ; and in an open 'place not far 
from the crowded port we stopped. 

Dick stayed to guard the car from the crowd which quickly 
collected, while I went to question the landlord. 

No travellers with an automobile were stopping with him at 
present; but one had arrived a couple of hours ago, perhaps, and 
its passengers had wished to remain overnight. Unfortunately, 
however, as a big ship had just come in from America every 
room was taken. 

There was no other hotel at which persons of taste could stop 
in comfort; and after some discussion the owner of the car had 
decided to run on to Algeciras by way of Tarifa. The party, con- 
sisting of three ladies, one gentleman, and the chauffeur, had 
taken a hasty meal, and had got away about an hour and a half 
before our arrival. 


286 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“Those beastly bandidos /” I exclaimed to Dick in a rage of 
disappointment. “ If it hadn’t been for them we should have been 
on the heels of the grey car, and caught it up here at the hotel. 
I should have been able to snatch Monica away from under their 
noses — for I know she wouldn’t have failed me.” 

“ Those beastly bandidos introduced you to the King, — don’t 
forget that,” said Dick consolingly. “And the day may come 
before long when you’ll be glad of that introduction. You can 
never tell, in a life like yours. And once Carmona’s at Algeciras, 
why, you’ve got him in a kind of cul-de-sac from which he can’t 
escape, any more than a mouse can jump out of a basin half full 
of water. If he takes rooms at the Reina Cristina, you’ll come 
plump upon him. If he tries to return by road, he’ll run into your 
arms ; and one or the other must happen unless he puts his auto 
on a train or steamer, neither of which is likely.” 

Somewhat comforted, I proposed to follow at once, but Dick 
wistfully reminded me that the afternoon was wearing on, and 
he was wearing with it. Soon he would be worn out, unless I gave 
him something to eat. It seemed years since that cup of coffee 
and roll of the early morning. 

If we needed nourishment, the car needed water. Both needs 
were supplied somewhat grudgingly by me, though the physical 
part of me did appreciate the coolness of the restaurant, and the 
strange dishes for which Cadiz is famous; the mushroom-flav- 
oured cuttle-fish, the golden dorado in sherry. 

Then off we started again, to take a road which the landlord 
warned us was none too good. People who travelled by carriage 
or diligence had evil things to say of the fourteen to eighteen 
hours of journey, though the scenery was fine. This did not sound 
enlivening; but what good horses could do in fourteen hours, the 
Gloria could do in three or four. 

Through ramifications of narrow streets I steered the car out 
of Cadiz. In all directions they branched off from one another, 
interlacing, overlapping with the intricacy of a puzzle. The houses 
were high, too, and there was not a window with glittering bal- 


THE RACE 


287 


cony of glass and iron, where dark-eyed women did not lean be- 
tween heaven and earth, to smile down upon our humming motor. 
It was all very quaint and gay, in spite of ancient, tragic mem- 
ories ; and though few cities of Spain are older than Cadiz — 
which claims Hercules for founder — the white houses looked as 
clean as if they had been built yesterday or some mediaeval model. 

We tore back to San Fernando; and soon came upon the bad 
surface which had been prophesied. The Gloria bumped over 
ruts and grooves, and scattered stones, and perforce I had to 
slacken speed lest she should break some blood-vessel. Never- 
theless we did not waste time in covering the six miles to Chiclana 
de la Frontera; and when we had crashed through this an- 
cient stronghold of the Phoenicians we jolted out into an open, 
sandy solitude, with only the knoll of Barosa to break its blank 
monotony. 

Even a mind preoccupied must spare a few thoughts for Gra- 
ham and the “ Faugh-a-ballaghs,” on this ground where Spanish 
men and British men fought shoulder to shoulder against the 
French invader. But when we passed the road branching away to 
Conil, and held straight on across the little river Salado, I heard 
a thing more instructive than history, more exciting than romance. 

A man we met — who looked old enough to remember the 
brave days of the great tunny fishing — had seen a large auto- 
mobile, not more than an hour ago. Evidently, then, we were 
gaining on the quarry. The news gave me courage. 

The sea and the Straits of Gibraltar were near now, and 
though they were not in sight yet, nor the sandy headland of 
Trafalgar, the smell of salt came to us with the wind. 

At the old Moorish town of Vejer de la Frontera (scarcely a 
town in this storied comer of the world but tells, with its “ de la 
Frontera,” of days when the Moors were crushed back, ever 
farther and farther) we had travelled full thirty miles from Cadiz. 
Childish voices screaming round the car cried that another auto- 
mobile was not far ahead ; and like a racehorse nearing the finish, 
we put on speed, dashing on at a rush to the Laguna de Janda, 


288 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


over the ground where Tarik the Conquerer began his great 
running fight with Rodrigo. So through little Venta de Tabilla, 
leaving the lake to plunge into an imposing gorge which was a 
doorway to the sea. There, spread out before, were the straits 
and the burning African coast; Europe and Africa face to face; 
white Tarifa jutting into the green waves; Trafalgar in the dis- 
tance, smothered in clouds like clinging memories; Tangier 
opposite, a crescent of pearls, tossed seaward by towering blue 
waves which were the Atlas Mountains. Taking the wild beauty 
of the scene with all that it meant, it was one of the great sights 
of the world — the world once supposed to end here, with Her- 
cules’ pillars. 

As the Gloria sprang on towards Tarifa, a fierce wind which 
had been lying in wait leapt at the car and sent her staggering. 
Gust after gust darted from ambush, half blinding our ungoggled 
eyes with the sand they flung by handfuls into our faces. But wt 
jammed on our hats ; and the Gloria bore the onslaughts bravely, 
her voice drowned in the screaming of the wind, which might 
have been the war cries of those Moorish armies whose battle- 
ground this land had been for seven centuries. 

As the good white road mounted the shoulder of a down on 
its way to Tarifa, that most Moorish of all Spanish towns stood 
up like a model cut out of alabaster in a frame of jade. Clear 
against the sky rose the crumbling tower of Guzman el Bueno, 
the Abraham of mediaeval history ; but our way, instead of lea rj - 
ing through the strange old city, passed the horseshoe gate of 
entrance, and bore us up into the mountains. 

Not a soul did we meet, once we turned our backs upon Tarifa. 
Only the wild wind would not desert us, but roared in strange 
voices along the hollows of the land, in a country where all was 
wild. The rough mountain sides were peppered with stunted 
oaks; and as our way ascended more thrilling grew the views, 
with the smoke of great steamers streaming black pennons over 
the sea, and the Atlas Mountains squatting Sphinx-like to guard 
the African shore. 


THE RACE 289 

Then, we lost the hard blue line of water, screened behind 
mountains ; and slipping down over the summit we hid from the 
bellowing wind. The car flew like a circling bird round the wide 
curves, and dropped us in peaceful vales sheltered by cork forests, 
and rocky walls inlaid with the silver of trickling streams. 

Thus, back to the wide sea view and downs whose flowery 
carpet was tom by jagged nail-heads of rock. Cork trees, sombre 
as giant olives clad in mourning, strong in their corselets and 
shields of half-stripped bark as knights in armour, covered the 
hills like a vast army. At the foot of the hoary warriors, waved 
bracken and yellow iris in tangled masses; high above their 
heads sailed here and there a golden eagle of a vulture, looking 
like paper birds or Japanese kites. 

Far below us the white houses of Algeciras lay scattered like a 
broken necklace of white beads; and from across the water that 
dark lion, Gibraltar, crouched as if waiting to spring. 

Whether Dick or I saw it first I can’t tell, but we exclaimed 
together, “ There’s the other car ! ” And there it was, a moving 
speck upon the road in a white cloud of dust. 

After it we went with a bound of increased speed. No need now 
to stop and ask the way to the hotel ; all we had to do was to follow , 
and catch up with the Lecomte at the steps of the Hotel Reina 
Cristina. A wild idea flashed into my head, that I would snatch 
Monica as she alighted from Carmona’s car, fling her to Dick in 
mine, jump in after her myself, and be off before the others had 
time to recover from their surprise. 

The more I thought of this the more feasible did it seem. No 
slowing up for sharp turnings now; trust to luck that the road was 
clear ahead! I was thrilling with hope and excitement as we 
dashed after the disappearing dust-covered automobile into a 
wide open gateway. The scent of heliotrope and rose geranium, 
hot under the April sun, intoxicated me as we swept along the 
white avenue, and came in sight of the other car just drawing up 
before an arcaded loggia. 


XXXV 


HE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 

T WO ladies and their maid were getting out. An Ameri- 
can young man was helping them down. The grey 
car was not a Lecomte. The owner, his chauffeur, 
and the three women were of types entirely different 
from those we sought. 

The discovery, coming after such exaltation of hope, was like 
a blow over the heart. 

“Hard luck,” exclaimed Dick. ^But Carmona’s car must 
be somewhere. ” 

“ If it ever started, ” I said. “ I begin to think now that Car- 
mona rallied his brigands, and sent me out to meet them, know- 
ing I’d surely follow if I believed he had gone that way. ” 

“ Oh come, there’s hope still, ” Dick consoled me. And turning 
to the owner of the car, he asked if he had seen another grey 
automobile. He had not; and, on further questioning, he went 
on to tell us that he had started from Seville meaning to stop at 
Cadiz and come on here to-morrow ; but the hotel had been full, 
so he had “rushed it” to Algeciras. These details proved that 
his was the motor we had been chasing from the first; and the 
excellent Spanish which the Californian spoke to the porters 
accounted for one misleading bit of information. 

While the party of care-free tourists went indoors, Dick and 
I stood in our coats of dust to discuss the situation. We soon 
agreed that there was but one thing to do. Wire Colonel O’Don- 
nel for news of Carmona’s movements, and wait where we were 
for an answer. 


280 


291 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 

To none save those who count every moment precious could 
such a delay have been irksome. The place was a paradise, the 
garden a comer of Eden, and the Reina Cristina more like the 
country house of some Spanish millionaire than a hotel. 

Leaving the Gloria, we went in to write a telegram; and in a 
court, charming as the patio of a Moorish palace, we sat to pian 
out a message. The people of the hotel confirmed our fears that 
no answer could come from Seville till morning ; so Dick busied 
himself in choosing rooms, while, to save time, I took the car 
by the sea road to the telegraph-office in town. 

How many miles up and down those flower-bordered paths 
Dick and I walked next morning waiting for news, neither could 
have told. Eleven o’clock had struck when Colonel O’Donnel’s 
answer was brought to me in the garden. 

“ On receipt of wire, interviewed verger, ” I read. “ Made him 
confess to accepting large sum from agent of C — to send you on 
wrong track. Making inquiries and hope let you know in few 
hours whether C — really gone; if so, which direction. Advise 
you stop Algeciras till hear from me again. Am sending on lug- 
gage there.” 

“ A few hours ! ” I was beginning to know too well what a few 
hours could mean in Spain where, to a population of philosophers 
it mattered nothing if a thing happened to-morrow or the day 
after. 

Gibraltar was empurpled with night and sequinea witn ten 
thousand fights when the next telegram arrived — a message 
which covered two telegraph forms. 

“ Just learned C — left to-day for Granada with same party. 
Took train, and whether shipped automobile not found out. C — • 
believed to be ill. Friend at club says C — been heard say knows 
at Granada man worth twenty physicians, natural bone-setter, 
herb doctor. Perhaps wishes consult this person. Illness seems 
mysterious. House of C — well known at Granada. Inquire at 
Washington Irving, where suppose you will stay. Will wire or 
write to that address. ” 


292 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

I should have been off within the hour, but the quickest way 
of reaching Granada was by Ronda, and there was no road for 
automobiles. One could walk, one could ride, along a bridle 
path through gorges unsurpassed for grandeur; but it was an 
expedition of two days, whereas if we could curb our impatience 
until early morning, we would reach Ronda by train in about 
four hours. 

Not being quite mad, we waited, rose at five, and before seven 
were steaming out of Algeciras, while the great cloud-cataract 
of the Levanter churned and boiled over Gibraltar. On a truck, 
travelling by the same train, was my brave Gloria, none the worse 
for yesterday’s wild flight, and ready for another when she could 
take the road beyond Ronda. I had not ceased yet to wonder at 
the expedition with which she had been shipped. Dick discovered, 
however, that the manager of the line was a Scotsman, a kind of 
fairy godfather for all the region round, which explained the 
mystery; and his road was wonderful. In a glass coach, which 
was an “ observation car, ” we tore through scenery so diversified 
that it might have been chosen from the finest bits of a whole 
continent. There were wooded ravines tapestried with pink 
sweetbrier; there were far hill-towns like flocks of gulls resting 
on the edge of giddy precipices ; there were strange old fortresses ; 
ruined Moorish castles; velvet-green fields with aloe hedges 
grey as lines of broken slate; dark, noble gorges sprinkled with 
mother-o’-pearl flakes of white wild roses, that drifted down 
the red rock into water green as onyx. There were blossomy bits 
of Holland and long tracts of Switzerland. Glacier-mills in 
narrow gorges were like empty niches for colossal statues of 
saints; pink and white orchards foamed at the feet of ancient 
look-out towers; black rocks, like huge watch-dogs, seemed to 
crouch on cushions of wild flowers; and weeping willows fringed 
the river with silver before it dashed away to do battle among 
the mountains; acacias showered perfume, and orange groves 
pushed so near to the train that a hand reached out could have 
pulled in their golden globes. 


293 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 

There were caves and underground rivers, haunted by en- 
chanted Moors ; and at last, a brief glimpse of Ronda hanging high 
against the sky, vanishing like the fabled Garden of Iram, and not 
to be seen again until the train mounted the cliff by many loops. 

Just as we arrived at the end of the journey a thought in my 
brain seemed to snap like the trigger of a carbine. In my haste to 
get off by the first morning train I had forgotten to try and find 
more petrol at Algeciras, although I had not enough left to get 
the car to Granada. 

There was just time to telegraph back to the Reina Cristina 
and beg some of the young Californian, who had fallen so deeply 
in love with the place that he intended to stay a week. We had 
become friendly and he would certainly grant the favour, there- 
fore we might count on travelling that night by acetylene and 
moonlight. Meanwhile, there was a long day to wait, but I 
tramped off my restlessness as best I could in exploring every 
foot of Ronda. 

After that one look upward from the train, when Ronda 
hung before our eyes over a thousand foot gorge, we had at last 
sneaked in, so to speak, by a back door. If it had not been for 
that first glimpse, and if we had not read “ Miranda of the Bal- 
cony” we should not have guessed, in walking from the station 
to the Alameda, that Ronda differed from other Moorish towns. 
But far away was a barrier of iron railing, and a curious effect 
as if beyond it everything ended except the sky. We walked 
on, reached that railing, and leaned over. 

No picture, no book had been able to give us a real idea of 
Ronda. It was stupendous — wonderful. We stared down at the 
world beneath as if we hung in a balloon, for the rock fell away 
from our feet, a sheer precipice; and men working in the valley 
below were like tiny crabs. The Moorish mills were white, broken 
hour-glasses, shaking out a stream of silver; geese on the river 
were floating bread-crumbs ; a string of donkeys crawling up the 
steep Moorish road were invisible under their packs, which 
looked like mushrooms with moving stems. 


294 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


The noise of the river floated up to us with a muffled roar, 
and across the deep valley its water had cut, tumbled a wild 
mountain -land, crossed here and there by white threads of road 
which clung to the sky-line and disappeared. 

“Great Scott, if this eagle’s nest doesn’t take the cake!” 
exclaimed Dick, always modem. “If there were any more to 
take, it could have that, too. Hurrah for you, rock and river. 
You’re sublime. ” 

But we had not seen all, by hanging over that iron railing, 
nor nearly all. There was the palace of the Moorish King, and 
the terrible steps cut by Christian captives. There was the bridge 
swung over the gorge; and the far-famed “window” of rock, 
one of the wonders of the world. There was the old Roman 
amphitheatre, turned into a bull-ring; the town wall, which 
Hercules helped to build; the Roman gate, and the Moorish 
gate, and the house where Miranda lived ; and a hundred other 
things to be found by mounting steep hills or sliding down wild 
precipices. 

The splendid mountain air had given Dick a ferocious appetite; 
nevertheless he could hardly be tom from the cliff above the 
“ window, ” and vowed that it would be worth while coming all 
the way from New York to Ronda next year when the grand new 
hotel should be finished. 

Rain fell while we lunched, but we wandered out again, in a 
thin mist like a sieve, through which sifted turquoises and silver 
spangles; nor did we cease wandering until it was time for the 
train to arrive with the expected petrol. The Californian had not 
failed us; and with a good supply of food for the Gloria, and 
enough for ourselves to last until morning, we set off, against the 
advice of everyone. 

The sky had cleared, and twilight would soon merge into 
moonlight; but we would need the moon and stars as well on the 
road we had to travel. In more than one place it was marked on 
my map by an ominous, thin black line which meant “ Motorists, 
beware. ” The country was sparsely populated ; people whispered 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 295 

of bandidos; and if anything happened to the car in the middle 
of the night, there would be no means of getting help. 

Still, if we won through without serious mishap, we should 
save a day; for there was no train to Granada until morning, and 
Dick was as keen on the adventure, for the adventure’s sake, as 
I was for another reason. 

After all, we reminded each other, it was a journey of only a 
hundred and twenty miles. With no traffic to interfere, the 
Gloria ought to fly over the distance in four hours ; and what if 
everyone did try to discourage us ? We had experienced that sort 
of thing in Biarritz, and the dangers had resolved themselves 
into chimeras. Nothing in Spain was as troublesome nowadays 
as the busybodies would have one believe — not even the beggars. 

My big searchlights cast a flashing ring on the road, which the 
car seemed to push swiftly before it as it ran. 

Dick peered through the uncertain light for the hill town of 
Teba, from which the Empress Eugenie took her title, but my 
eyes were glued to the road. 

To think, if we had known at Jerez that Granada was the 
lodestar, we could have reached Ronda in a run of four hours 
day before yesterday ! But it was useless to repine, and fate had 
given us Ronda. 

By the time we had passed through the straggling village of 
Campillos the moon was up, a great white, incandescent globe 
of light, so brilliant that instead of draining colour from rock, 
and grass, and flower, it gave new and almost supernatural 
values to all. 

We had the world to ourselves, a wonderful world like a vast 
silver bowl half full of jewels. Over the tops of mountains cut 
jaggedly of steel, strange figures seemed to run along the horizon. 
Bathed in unearthly radiance lay fields of poppies like deep 
lakes of blood filling the valleys between little rolling hills, and 
here and there a miniature mountain of pink or glittering grey, 
rose out of the plain like a fairy palace which would be invisible 
in daylight. Olive trees stretching away in straight lines on 


296 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


either side of endless avenues, fountained silver under the moon, 
each avenue swept by a wave of poppies. It was an Aladdin’s 
Cave landscape made out of rare metals and precious stones 
that imitated trees and flowers. 

Antiquera on its wild crags, was a ragged black hole in the 
silver sky, until we shot into the town under the dominating 
castle of crimson memories. 

There, was life and music still; guitars tinkled, children who 
should have been in bed frolicked in the streets with lambs that 
followed them like dogs, while everyone, old and young, laughed 
and hooted at the Gloria as she shot by without stopping, on 
her way to Loja and Granada. 

A sharp turn to the left swept us out of Antiquera, and so good 
was the road that Dick and I began to laugh at the gloomy prog- 
nostications which thus far had not been fulfilled. 

My spirits rose to such a height that as we passed under the 
Lovers’ Rock, still haunted by the Moorish maiden and her 
Christian lover, I quoted Southey, verse after verse of the old- 
fashioned poetry coming back to my mind. The Pena de los 
Enamorados stood up like a miniature Gibraltar, rising out of 
the plain ; and as we wound on among other pinnacles almost as 
majestic, we could see the bleached skeleton of Archidona hang- 
ing on its mountain. Once the place had been a famous nest of 
brigands; and when after climbing a tremendous hill, we had 
come into its long white street, Dick was of opinion that Archi- 
dona of to-day was still an ideal summer resort for the fraternity 
in case they should crave a town life. Each low-browed house in 
the interminable avenue looked a fit nursery for mysteries and 
secrets. Here and there a dark face framed in a knotted red 
handkerchief peered from a lighted doorway, staring after the 
Gloria until she had slipped over the brow of the hill to coast 
smoothly down another as steep. 

There, had we but known, the peaceful olive grove through 

hich we passed and hushed the song of nightingales was to be 
’ t glimpse of peace. Beyond that silver barrier lay chaos. 


297 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 

a chaos of wild mountains, deep chasms, and grim steppes, 
solitary, unpeopled, forbidding under the moon ! 

If we broke an axle here, with leagues to walk to the nearest 
farm, there was no hope of Granada to-morrow. And now the 
road was equally well fitted for breaking axles, necks, and hearts. 

It was made of rock in petrified waves, among which the Gloria 
floundered and buck-jumped as long ago Dick had expected her 
to do when she crossed the Spanish border. Every part of her 
shivered as though she were a horse in the bull-ring, and I pitied 
her as if she had a nerve in every spring and chain. 

“ This is no road ; it’s a nightmare, ” groaned Dick. But if it 
were, it was a nightmare which ran with us glaring, showing 
frightful fangs, for mile after mile of horror. Just as the steep 
slope of a descent offered a softer cushion for the suffering tyres, 
and hope stirred within us, we broke into such a region as 
imagination pictures in the streets of Lisbon after the great 
earthquake. Gullies and vertical rifts scored the highway ser- 
pentining hither and thither, the chasms gaping to swallow the 
Gloria or at least bite off a wheel. 

Now the earthy lip of a cleft would crumble and fall in as our 
driving-wheels skimmed along the edge; now, steer with all the 
nerve and nicety I might, the Gloria would rock as she hung half 
over a gully. Somehow I coaxed her down the hill, and driving 
out from the labyrinth of crevasses, I breathed a sigh of relief. 
But the next instant, I had only time to jam on the brakes to 
save the car from vaulting into a small river which ran across 
the road. Carefully embanked on either side, the stream flowed 
swiftly, cutting the descent at right angles. 

Whatever the depth might prove, I had to risk it. Mounting 
the nearer embankment, I drove down into the running water, 
where the moon laughed up at me as I broke her glittering 
reflection. 

“Good old San Cristobal!” cried Dick as we came through 
without damage and climbed the opposite bank, to plump down 
a breakneck descent on the other side. 


298 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


But it was early still to praise the saint. We had only to look 
ahead to see how much more he had to do for us, if we were to 
win through to Granada at all. Where a little clump of houses 
had assembled at the bottom of the hill, as if to watch our 
struggle, another and far broader river flowed. 

It also raced across the highway, as if roads were made for 
river-beds; and this time the situation was so serious that I 
stopped the Gloria to reflect. 

There was no doubt about it; this river was deep. Though a 
cart might ford it safely, and have the flood of rippling silver no 
higher than the axles, it was different with an automobile. I 
wondered bleakly what would happen to the silencer if its mass 
of heated metal were suddenly plunged into cold water, and 
what would happen to the commutator. 

“ When in doubt, play a trump, ” said Dick. “And I guess that 
camel-backed bridge is a trump, if it’s only a knave — or the 
deuce. ” 

It was true, there was a narrow erection which might pass as 
a bridge, if one wished to pay a compliment. It was of stone, 
and came to a steep point at the apex, like a “ card tent ” when 
two cards receive support from one another. It was the question 
of a fraction of an inch, if the Gloria were to squeeze over; but 
between the danger of a jam and the danger of a burst cylinder, 
I decided to risk playing Dick’s trump. 

First I got out and unscrewed the wheel-caps to give more 
clearance, then in again for the trial, while Dick walked, ready 
to offer aid if it were needed. I had rasped through to the top, 
and the Gloria had actually started on the down grade, when 
she gave a grinding scream, and stuck between the parapets. 

I tried to move, and could not. The car was hopelessly jammed. 

“Nice fix,” said Dick. “If I was writing a book, I’d say, 
* this route only suitable for hundred horse-power cars, built in 
small sections, and carrying cheerful passengers.’ Now, we were 
cheerful once — and may be again. Chuck me over the key of 
the tool-box, will you?” 


299 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS 

I did so without a word, lest if I uttered any they should be too 
strong. But curiosity was too much for me when I heard a 
metallic chinking, then the blows of a hammer. 

“ Only knocking down a bit of this old parapet, ” was the calm 
answer to my question. “Some of it’s gone already; why not 
more ? I bet future generations will thank me — as it’s certain 
never to be mended. ” 

As he spoke, there was a great splash, when a piece of the 
parapet, already weakened by years of storm and stress, plumped 
over into the river. The car was released, and slid down the other 
slope of the camel’s back. 

Now it did seem that we might safely thank San Cristobal, 
since nothing could well be worse than the pass from which he 
had just delivered us, scratched, bruised, yet unbroken. We had 
but to scramble out of the rough river-bed, bump over the level 
crossing of a railway, to come out upon a broad, smooth highway 
like a road to paradise. Ready to shout with joy, I put on speed, 
and the Gloria sprinted over the white and silent way as if she 
were happy to turn her back upon Inferno. 

Yesterday’s study of the map assured me that at length we had 
struck the main road from Malaga, and there seemed every 
reason to believe that the ordeal just over would be our last. 
Flying along at a good fifty miles an hour, under a tired moon 
who sought the west, presently a town rose grandly up before us, 
throned on rocks in a wide valley, and pallid in the strange light 
as some sad queen. 

Loja, tragically lost key of Granada, sister of famed Alhama, 
stronghold of that fierce alcayde who called Boabdil’s sultana 
daughter! Loja, and only thirty miles more to Granada. 

We rushed towards that wide valley, and on to the mountain 
town which dared to repulse Ferdinand. In the deserted streets 
the only sound was the singing of many springs, the same musical 
voices, the same strains that Lord Rivers heard close upon five 
hundred years ago, when he came with his English archers to 
help conquer the wild place. El Gran Capitan, too, had come 


300 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

here, a lonely exile, after all his splendid services to an ungrateful 
king. He, too, had heard the singing of Loja’s springs, not in 
triumph, but in sorrow. 

Down in the valley beyond, the river cried a warning to us; 
but we did not heed, even when the road surface changed again 
to gluey mud; squelching on, mile after mile, at the best pace we 
could, and saying always that soon we should be on the Vega. 
So the dawn stole up and quivered on the snows of the Sierra 
Nevada. 

The moon was gone, and it must still be long before the sun 
would shine over the mountains, when a black shadow like a 
great coffin deserted on the road, gave me pause. I pulled up in 
haste, only just in time, and could hardly believe I saw aright. 
But there was no illusion. We were on the highway from the 
port of Malaga to Granada, yet here was a broken bridge, a 
noble structure which should have outworn centuries, tumbling 
into ruin. 

The fall of the great central arch was no new thing, for moss 
and lichen enamelled its jagged edges with green and gold. 
Some branches loosely strewn across the road were the only sign- 
post indicating this tragedy, though perhaps it was a story as 
old as the great earthquake of two-and-twenty years ago. 

A yard or so more and we should have been over; but San 
Cristobal had not forgotten us; and the next thing was, how to 
cross the river without a bridge. I turned and went back, dis- 
covering wheel-tracks which showed an obscure bye-path dipping 
over the edge of the enbankment. I followed, and beheld the 
ford, a little farther on in a baby forest, where a broad stream 
lay in flood between low banks. 

“We’ll have to get through,” I said, and drove the Gloria 
into the water. If there should be mud — but there were stones 
instead; and with tiny waves swishing among the spokes of her 
wheels she set out to rumble over. 

“I believe she’ll do it — ” I had begun, when she gave a 
great hiss, as when a blacksmith plunges a red-hot horseshoe 


THE MOON IN THE WILDERNESS . SOI 

into water; and a cloud of steam gushed up. Still I forced her on, 
expecting each instant to hear some fatal crash, while we plunged 
deeper into the stream. Now the little waves splashed coldly across 
my feet. Would they mount to the carburetor, spoil the ignition, 
or, still worse, would they crack the cylinders ? 

Neither spoke, and the car stormed on, sobbing. For a moment 
she clawed in vain at something, and then stumbled, as if on her 
knees, up the farther bank. Dripping water and puffing steam she 
climbed to the high-road again, and, with a bound, started on 
through spouting mud, as if nothing had happened. One would 
have thought her fired by some incentive as powerful as mine, 
which forced her on in the face of all difficulties ; and perhaps it 
was a song of gladness which the motor hummed as she came 
out upon the Vega. 

Suddenly the first beams of the sun streamed down the white 
slopes of the far Sierra Nevada, touched the vast fertile plain, 
and wrought magic with a castled hill which floated up, dream- 
like, from a purple haze where a great city lay asleep. Clustering 
vermilion towers blazed with the gold of dawn, and dazzled our 
eyes with the glamour of romance. For the sleeping city was 
Granada, and the red towers and gardens on the castled hill 
were the towers and gardens of the Alhambra. 

The adventure was over. And under one of those roofs, dove- 
grey in the dawn, I hoped that Monica was sleeping. 


XXXVI 

WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 


I N spite of dykes and dams, said Dick, we had arrived at a 
place to visit which had once seemed to him as wonderful 
as finding the key of the rainbow. Yet here we were ; and 
Granada — after we had entered at last by crossing still 
another river — came out from under its spell of enchant- 
ment when we saw it at close quarters. Only that wonderful hill 
above was magical still, as magical to the eye as when Ibraham 
the astrologer decreed its gardens. 

More than half the miradored Moorish houses had given place 
to modem French ones ; and descendants of the banished owners 
in far Tetuan and Tunis, might as well fling their keys and title- 
deeds away. 

The dome of Isabella’s cathedral and the towers of old, old 
churches rose from among the roofs of commonplace streets; 
ordinary shops of yesterday and to-day ran up the steep hill 
towards the Alhambra; but at a great gateway — la Puetra de 
las Granadas, raised by Charles the Fifth — the centuries opened 
and let us drive through into the past. 

At this hour of the morning, the deep green forest of the 
Alhambra park, beyond the classic arch, was still as the enchant- 
ed wood which hid from the world the Sleeping Beauty in her 
palace. The nightingales had gone to sleep, and the daylight 
birds had finished their first concert, but another voice was sing- 
ing, the joyous high soprano of water — water unseen, rippling 
through subterranean channels; water seen, tumbling in crystal 
runnels on either side of the road in its bubbling way downhill. 

302 


303 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 

Still we saw nothing of the enchanted vermilion towers which 
draw all the world across sea and land. There was but a glimpse 
of ruddy battlements once at a turn of the road, through a netting 
of trees and branches ; then we were in a green cutting in the deep 
wood, where two pleasant, old-fashioned hotels faced each other. 

We were expected at the house named after that delicate and 
genial soul who awoke Europe and America to the charm of the 
Alhambra. I had hopefully telegraphed from Ronda that we 
would arrive early, en automobile; nevertheless, the landlord, 
knowing the route, was smilingly surprised to see us. 

There was a telegram ; that was the first thing we learned ; and 
it was from Colonel O’Donnel; but he had no news to tell. He 
merely wired his advice that, if possible, Senor Waring should 
come back to Seville immediately, as his evidence was now want- 
ed in the affair of the bomb. 

Dick at once said that he would not desert me, but I urged 
upon him the advisability of going. He had seen me through my 
great adventure ; and if Carmona and the others were in Granada 
there was nothing he could do at the moment which I could not 
do for myself. If he failed to appear in Seville, there might be 
trouble; and should I find that I needed his help, I would tele- 
graph. 

Pilar’s name was not spoken, but it rang in our thoughts, and 
Dick could not hide the flash of eagerness that lit his eyes. Per- 
haps by this time she would have made up her mind whether he 
were to have “ yes ” or " no ” for his answer. 

“ My going shall depend on whether Carmona’s here or not,” 
he said ; and I turned to the landlord with a question. Did he know 
whether the Duke of Carmona and his mother had come, and 
brought friends to their palace in Granada ? 

The Spaniard laughed. He knew but too well, since the arrival 
of the distinguished family had roused something like an emeute 
in his and other hotels. Carmona palace was perhaps the 
most interesting show-place left in the town of Granada, except 
the tombs of los Reyes Catolicos in the cathedral. It was the 


304 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


palace where Boabdil had fled from his father’s wrath; and after 
the Alhambra and the Generalife it was the one thing that tourists 
came to see. Now they were prevented from seeing it by the arriv- 
al of the Duke and Duchess, a calamity which did not happen 
in the high season once in ten years. If the house (which had in 
these days but one grand suite of furnished and habitable rooms) 
was occupied by its owners, it was usually for a few weeks in 
the height of summer, after strangers had ceased to come south; 
or else in the autumn, before the time for travellers. Now there 
was great dissatisfaction among the foreign visitors, who con- 
sidered themselves defrauded of their rights. Yesterday morning 
several parties of tourists had insisted upon an entrance, and in 
the afternoon, in fulfilment of the Duke’s request, two civil 
guards had been stationed before the door to keep would-be 
intruders at a distance. 

This did not seem a hopeful outlook for me, in case I wished 
to try some such coup d'etat as I had planned in Seville. But there 
would be other ways of reaching Monica, I told myself, when 
the landlord had gone on to say that the Duke was supposed to 
be seriously ill. If Carmona were suffering, he would not be able 
to watch the members of his household as closely as before, and 
it ought not to be impossible to let Monica know that I was in 
Granada. Once she understood that I was ready and waiting to 
take her away, means would be found to reach her. 

There was only time, when Dick had finally decided to go, for 
a bath and breakfast before I spun him down to the station for 
the morning train. 

Meanwhile I had learned that every room in our landlord’s 
two hotels was occupied, for it was the most crowded season. 
But I was to have a villa belonging to the hotels given to me for 
my entire use, a villa in an old Moorish garden of tinkling foun- 
tains, flowing rills, rose-entwined miradores, jasmine arbours, 
myrtle hedges, and magnolia trees. The Carmen de Mata Moros 
was to be mine for as few days or as many weeks as I chose to 
remain. Satisfied, therefore, that I should not have to camp under 


305 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 

the trees of the park, I determined, when I had seen Dick off, 
to put up the car in the town of Granada, and reconnoitre the 
neighbourhood of the Carmona palace. 

An inquiry here and there took me to the street without much 
delay. The palace, sacred to memories of Boabdil, his gentle 
Sultana Zorayda, and his stem mother Ayxa, was to be found on 
the outskirts of the Albaicin, that part of Granada once favoured 
by the Moorish aristocracy, now almost given up to the poorer 
Spaniards, and gypsies rich enough and sophisticated enough to 
desert their caves. Ferdinand and Isabel had granted the house 
to a rich Moorish noble who had fore-sworn his religion to help 
them in their wars, and who became the first Duque de Carmona, 
owner of many estates and many palaces. 

My landlord had not been misinformed. The fine entrance, 
with its fifteenth century Spanish coat of arms over the Moorish 
portal, was kept by two civil guards. I walked up, and with the 
air of a tourist, inquired how soon the palace would be open to 
visitors. The men could not tell me. Was the Duke ill? They 
believed so. And as I could get nothing further from them I walk- 
ed away. 

Above, on the hill, clustered the red towers of the Alhambra. 
I fancied that in those towers there must be windows which over- 
looked the patio of Boabdil’s old palace, and I resolved to prove 
this presently, but I was not yet ready to leave the Albaicin. 

I had brought down my Kodak as an excuse for lingering, and 
now I began, within sight of Carmona’s doors, to take leisurely 
snapshots. When I had been thus engaged for nearly half an 
hour, I saw a young woman, evidently a servant, leaving the 
palace with a small bundle under her arm; and without appear- 
ing to notice her, I strolled in the direction she was taking. Once 
beyond eyeshot of the civil guards, I spoke to the girl, taking off 
my hat politely. 

“ You are from the Duke of Carmona’s ? ” I said. “ I am an 
acquaintance of his, and intended to call, but I hear he is seeing 
no one.” 


306 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“That is true, senor,” replied the girl, a handsome creature of 
the gypsy type, with bold eyes which took in every detail of my 
features and clothing. “ His Grace arrived very fatigued and is 
obliged to He in bed; which is inconvenient, as there are foreign 
guests who must be so constantly entertained by Her Grace the 
Duchess, that she has no time to nurse her son.” 

“ I trust he has a clever doctor,” said I. 

“Oh, a very clever one,” the girl answered eagerly. “Not an 
ordinary physician, but a wonderful person. My brother knows 
him well, and goes into the Sierra to find herbs and flowers for 
his medicines and balsams.” 

Evidently the girl was proud of the acquaintance, and I 
humoured her. 

“ Such remedies are good in cases of fever and malaria,” I said. 

“And for many other things,” she persisted. “His Grace has 
contracted some poisoning of the hand. I do not know how; but 
he is better already, and will no doubt soon be well. If the senor 
would care to send a line of sympathy, I might arrange for it to 
reach the Duke. At present not even the most intimate friends 
are admitted, but I am in the confidence of Her Grace’s maid, 
who came with her from Seville. Indeed I’m now on the way to 
do an errand for her.” 

I caught at this opening. 

“ I should like to send a note,” I said, “but not to the Duke.” 

Having got so far, I took a roll of bank-notes from my pocket, 
as we strolled slowly on together. A young woman so anxious to 
convey an impression of her own importance, must have am- 
bitions beyond her place in life. 

The dark face sparkled at sight of the money, and tactfully I 
explained that my principal interest centred in a young guest 
of the Duchess’s. Any person who could take word from me to 
her, unknown to others, would be well rewarded. I should not 
think five hundred pesetas too much, to give for such a service. 

A hint was enough. In an instant the girl became a woman of 
business and a mistress of intrigue. She would not, she said, dare 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 


307 


attempt to deliver a note. It would be simpler, less dangerous for 
all concerned, to be at work in a corridor through which the 
English senorita must pass ; to murmur a few words which would 
attract her attention ; to receive a verbal message in return ; and 
to bring it to me when she could — not to-day; that would be 
impossible; but to-morrow evening about nine, at which time 
she had already permission to go out. 

Should I trust her ? Her face was one to inspire a man’s ad- 
miration rather than trust, but I had no alternative. If I surren- 
dered this chance, I should hardly find another as promising; 
and as I must depend upon someone in Carmona’s house, why 
not upon this woman ? The bribe I offered was tempting enough 
to keep her true, if anything could. 

I hesitated no more than a moment in accepting her amend- 
ment of my proposal, since she assured me it was impossible to 
make an appointment sooner. And the message I sent Monica 
was cautiously worded. 

The friends who had seen her last in the catherdal of Seville 
were anxious to see her again, and begged that she would arrange 
to meet them as soon as possible, to carry out the plan which 
had been interrupted. 

The girl repeated these words after me, promised to remember 
them and give me the answer to-morrow at nine, in case any 
message were entrusted to her. We were not to meet at the same 
place, however, but on the Alhambra Hill, in the road leading 
up from the “ Wasinton ” (as she called the hotel) to the Carmen 
de Mata Moros. She had a brother living not far from there, she 
said, whom she expected to visit the following evening. I offered 
half the money in advance as an incentive to loyalty, and it was 
accepted with dignity. Then, when we were parting, I asked if 
one could see into the palace patio from the Alhambra, which 
towered above us on the height. 

“From the middle window of the Sala de Anmajadores the 
senor will find himself able to see very well,” she answered. 
“And there is still another patio , into which there is a better 


308 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


view from the gardens of the Generalife. Certainly the gardens 
are very high and far; but if the senor has a spy-glass of some 
sort ? And it he chooses I can try to tell the young lady that he 
will be first in one place, then in the other, hoping for a sight of 
her. Let us say, in the afternoon between four and six at the 
Alhambra; after that, at the Generalife, till the sun is gone.” 

This neat plan was worth an extra twenty-five peseta note, 
and I gave it. Afterwards, having no other personal affairs to 
distract my attention, I wandered through the streets of Granada 
and into the chill cathedral before going up to make acquain- 
tance with the Carmen de Mata Moros. 

When I had seen the villa, with its enchanting terraced garden, 
hanging on the hillside high above the Vega, a wild hope blazed 
within me that I might snatch Monica, persuade the English 
Consul to marry us, and keep her here for the honeymoon, 
flaunting my happiness in Carmona’s face. Of course the idea 
was fantastic, but it gave me a few moments of happiness. 

I lunched in the garden under the thick shade of nisperos 
trees, and before the time agreed upon I started to walk to the 
Alhambra. 

Not for worlds would I have taken a guide to show the way. 
All my life, since the days when my mother told me legends of 
treasure hidden and Moorish warriors enchanted, the Alhambra 
had been a fairy dream to me. There was no one in the world, 
save only Monica, whose company I 'would have craved for this 
expedition. Other people’s thoughts and impressions of the place 
might be better than mine, but I did not want to hear them; 
I wanted only my own. 

Under the huge leaning elms, which people who trust guide- 
books attribute to Wellington, I wandered until I came to a 
great red tower, with a horseshoe arch for entrance. There on 
the keystone was the carved hand; beyond, over the arch within, 
the key; and remembering the legend that never would disaster 
come until the Hand had grasped the Key, I knew that this 
must be the Gate of Justice. 


309 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 

Now, a spell fell upon me. It was as if the Hand had come 
down to touch me on the shoulder, and give the Key to hidden 
wonders, which only I might be allowed to see. That was the 
fiction with which I pleased myself ; for he who comes to the most 
famous of places is as truly a discoverer as he who finds a new 
world. No matter how much he has read, how many faithful 
photographs seen, he must discover everything anew, since it is 
certain that nowhere will he find anything more than he has with- 
in himself. The picture he sees will fit the frame his min d can 
give, and no one ever has, no one ever will, see there exactly 
what he sees. If a man’s mind cannot create a beautiful frame, 
then the picture must have but a poor effect for him, and he 
will go away belittling it. 

Now, I believed that I had been making a fine jewelled frame 
for this picture of the Alhambra, and I hoped that I deserved 
the Key which the Hand had lent. 

Inside the gateway, when I had climbed a winding lane, I 
found myself in the great Place of the Cisterns, which, with the 
vast incongruous palace half finished by Charles the Fifth, I 
recognized from many pictures ; but not yet would I look down 
over Granada and the Vega. I would wait until I could stand 
at a window in the Hall of the Ambassadors and see what 
1 had been promised. So, without a glance over the parapet, I 
walked on to an open door, where stood two or three men in 
gold-laced hats. One moved resignedly forward to act as guide, 
but a word and a piece of silver convinced him that I was a person 
who might be trusted alone, though I lacked a student’s ticket. 

I passed through the room devoted to officialdom, and then — 
the time had come to use the key, for I was already in fairyland; 
the covers of the “Arabian Nights” had closed on me, and shut 
me in between the pages. 

Physically I was not alone; for there were faded and strident 
tourists in the marble-paved court of the Alberca, whom I fain 
would have had stopped outside and put into appropriate cos- 
tume for fairyland; but spiritually I had the place to myself. 


310 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

The little glittering fish, like tropical flowers under green glass, 
flashed towards me through the beryl water, just as ancestor fish 
had flashed when jewelled hands of harem beauties crumbled 
cake into the gleaming tank. My mother had told me a legend, 
that fair favourites of banished sultans prayed to return after 
death to the Alhambra, in the bronze and gold, rose and purple 
forms of these fish of the Alberca; and now I half believed the 
story. Where — since Mahomet grants no heaven to women — 
could they be happier than here ? Floating ever under their roof 
o ? emerald, did they think themselves more fortunate than their 
husbands, lovers, and brothers permitted to rest within the Al- 
hambra walls in the guise of martens wailing shrilly for days 
that might not come again ? 

Dreaming, I passed into the Court of Lions, where I and the 
twelve quaint, stone guardians of the place stared at one another 
across a few feet of marble pavement that measured centuries. 
Each prim beast, beautiful because of his crude hideousness 
differing from his fellows ; each with a different story to tell if 
he would. Which one remembered that night when the brave 
Abencerrages faced death, there in the hall to the right, where 
the fountain kept ominous stains of brown ? Which had the see- 
ing eye in these fallen times, to watch when the ghost of those 
noble Moors passed by silent and sad in the moonlight ? Upon 
which had blood-drops spattered when the boy princes died for 
jealous Fatima’s pleasure? Which had known the touch of 
Morayma’s little hand or lovely Galiana’s ? 

I asked the questions; yet the deep answering silence of the 
court, and of all this hidden, secret, fairy palace seemed to say 
so much that it was not like silence, but reserve. 

“The Alhambra is music and colour and knowledge,” I said 
to the lions. “ When I am gone I shall shut my eyes and hear as 
well as see it; hear the magic music of the silence, played on 
silver lutes of Moors, and tinkling fountains, a siren’s song to 
draw me back again ; and I shall know and feel things which I’ve 
never been able to think out quite clearly before.” 


311 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 

Would Monica come here ? I wondered. No face more lovely 
than hers had ever looked down from those latticed windows 
supported by pillars delicate as a child’s white arm. If I could 
but see her face now! Not seeing it, I knew that no place, how- 
ever beautiful, could be perfect for me. Shadows of sorrow, of 
separation, would stand out the blacker against the sunlit, 
jewelled walls of the fairy palace ; and even happiness must sing 
in minor notes here, lest it strike out a discord in the tragic 
poem of the Alhambra. No wonder, in losing their crown 
jewel, the Moors lost hope, and with it all the art and 
science which had set them far above their Christian rivais 
No wonder they plunged, despairing, into the deserts tne^ 
had left, mingling among savage races as some bright spn. g 
mingles with a dark subterranean river, never to glitter in the 
light again. 

But none of my day dreams cheated me into losing count of 
time. 

If my messenger were true, soon Monica would be in one of 
the 'patios of Carmona’s palace, looking up at the AJhambra 
towers. “ The middle window as you go into the Hall of the Am- 
bassadors,” I repeated, and found my way back through the 
court of the Alberca; for you do not need to know the Alhambra 
to find your way from sala to sala, seen a hundred times in im- 
agination. 

So beautiful had I guessed that room above all others, that I 
had not expected to be surprised; yet I was surprised, and oddly 
excited, for supreme beauty is always exciting to the Latin mind. 
A vast bower of jewels, and old point-lace embroidered with 
tarnished gold threads and yellowing pearls, it seemed; its portals 
lace-curtained too; rich hanging folds of lace and fringe, like 
the lifted drapery of a sultan’s tent, supported on delicate ooles 
of polished ivory. 

Behind me was the beryl block of the fish-pond, set m si*ver 
instead of marble by the sunshine in the court. Before me, across 
the pink-jewelled dusk of the Sala de los Ambajadores, a blue 


812 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

and green picture of sky and mountains was framed by lace and 
precious stones. 

I walked to the middle window and looked sheer down over 
tall tree-tops to the valley of the Darro, where the roofs of the 
Albaicin clustered together, softly grey and glistening as the 
ruffled plumage of nestling birds. 

Far away to the left lay the Vega, shimmering under a mist of 
heat, which gave the look of a crystal sea engulfing the plain, 
trees and scattered villages gleaming through the transparent 
flood. Straight before my eyes, on the cactus-clothed shoulder of 
a hill opposite the tower, glittered a splash of whitewash dotted 
with black holes, which were the doors and windows of gypsy 
caverns. And above me, to the right on a higher hillside, rose the 
towers and miradores of that ancient “summer palace of de- 
lights,” the Generalife. 

One sweeping glance gave me these details; then, adjusting 
the field-glass I had brought, I fixed my attention on a house 
near the Albaicin, which I easily identified as Carmona’s palace. 

Gazing down from such a height, I had a bird’s-eye view of 
double 'patios thick with clustering shrubs, orange trees, and 
cypresses. The powerful glasses brought out clearly the delicate 
marble pillars supporting the Moorish archways of the upper 
gallery in one of these patios; but the other was shrouded for me 
by a group of cypresses. 

For a long time I waited — hours it seemed; but no one moved 
along the gallery or appeared in the half-shuttered windows that 
looked down into the court; and at last I decided to try the gar- 
dens of the Generalife, which I had been told commanded the 
second patio. 

Once, said legend, a prince had been secluded by his father 
in those gardens and those towers, lest he see the face of a woman, 
and learn sorrow through love; nevertheless, he had found out the 
great secret, and had had news of the most beautiful lady in the 
world. I hoped, as I walked along the avenue of cypresses, that 
I might be as fortunate; and in the gardens all things spoke of 


313 


WILES AND ENCHANTMENTS 

love. There, under the giant cypress, the handsome Abencerrage 
had come to keep the tryst which cost his head, and thirty-five 
others as noble. There, at the top of that shaded flight of stone 
steps, whose balustrades were jewelled with running water. 
Prince Ahmed had sat to play his lute. From that arcaded bal- 
cony Zorayda had looked when love was young, and Boabdil 
still the lover. In the mirrors of the water-patio Galiana had bent 
to her own image and asked, “ Am I worthy to be loved ? 99 

Out of the tangle of red and white roses, bunched in with gold- 
en oranges and scented blooms mingling together in one huge 
bouquet, I looked to find my love. It was true, I could see clearly 
now into the cypress patio ; and suddenly a white figure came 
out from a window upon the gallery. The glass at my eye, I 
thought I recognized Monica’s slender girlishness; but a moment 
later a larger form appeared. The two women stood together 
looking up, Lady Yale- Avon pointing towards the towers of the 
Alhambra or the Generalife. 

Was it possible she saw me ? Yet no, she could not without 
glasses. But if Monica had indeed been told where I would be 
at a certain time, could she not have contrived some means to 
elude her mother and come to the balcony alone ? 

Long after the two vanished I lingered; waited until sunset; 
waited until the sky was flooded with rose and gold, and towers 
and hills were purple in a violet mist. But Monica did not come 
again. 

If she had not been given the message, what guarantee had I 
that she would receive the other far more important ? 

It was in a fever of uncertainty that I must spend the next 
four-and-twenty hours. 


XXXVII 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 

T HAT night, in my villa above “the road of the great 
Moor-killing,” the nightingales were the only serenos. 
Their song was the song of the stars; and the song of 
the stars was the song of the nightingales. At dawn, 
from my window, I was taken into the private life of my neigh- 
bour birds. I heard them wake each other; I saw them make 
their toilets; and from the town far below my terraced garden 
the sound of bells came up — church bells, bells of mules and 
horses beginning work, while their masters sang coplas with a 
lilting Moorish wail. 

Once again I went down to look at Carmona’s door, to find it 
still guarded by guardia civile; and most of the day I spent in 
the Alhambra, seeing rooms and courts I had missed yesterday, 
looking down often into the patio of the palace in the Albaicin. 

I dined in the hotel garden, and before nine I was at the ap- 
pointed spot in the road outside the high wall of my Carmen. 
The moments passed as I walked up and down, my cigarette a 
spot of fire in the growing moonlight; still the gypsy-faced girl 
did not come. 

Twenty minutes late, said my watch, and as I stared at it, 
a man stopped in front of me. 

“ Is the noble senor expecting someone ? ” he asked. 

I put my watch away and looked at him. The moon, obscured 
though it was by clouds, showed a tall figure, with strong shoul- 
ders, and a face which seemed in the night as dark as a Moor’s. 
The man had lifted his hat from his thick black hair, and I said 

314 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 315 

to myself that he was a model for an artist who wished to paint a 

gypsy- . 

Finding that I did not answer on the instant, he went on — 

“The senor must forgive me if I have made a mistake; but 
my sister, who had an errand to do for a gentleman, has sent me 
in her place.” 

“ In that case you have made no mistake, ” I said. et You have 
a message for me from your sister ? ” 

“ And from a lady. The message is, that if the senor will come 
to my house in an hour, he will find what he seeks. ” 

My blood quickened. 

“What do I seek?” 

“A lady who loves you, and has sent you this through my 
sister. ” 

The man produced a tiny white paper packet which I took, 
but would not open in his presence. 

“ Do you mean that the lady will meet me at your house — - to- 
night?” I asked. 

“She hopes it, for there is no other place or way. My sister 
will bring the lady ; but it is not a house, in your way of speaking, 
senor. It is a cave in the hillside which I have made my home, 
for I am a gitano. ” 

“ You live above the Albaicin, in the gypsy quarter, then ? ” 
I said. 

“No, senor, nearer here than that. You must have seen, if 
you have walked about the neighbourhood, that there are many 
other caves which honeycomb the hillsides. To find mine you 
must go towards the cemetery, take the first turn to the right, 
follow the winding road which descends, then up a rough path, 
and stop at the first of the three gypsy caves. I must not wait for 
you, as I have to see that my sister and the lady arrive safely. 
But you cannot miss the place; and if I am not waiting at the 
door, open it without knocking and walk in. Is that understood, 
senor ? ” 

“Yes,” I said. 


31 G 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“Then I will go to watch for my sister near the palace. At 
half-past ten, senor. 99 

“ At half-past ten. 99 1 echoed his words, and watched him out 
of sight as he tramped away in the direction which would take 
him to the Albaicin. Then I hurried back to the villa and opened 
the packet. It contained the shield-shaped brooch which I had 
infuriated Carmona by giving Monica at Toledo; that, and 
nothing besides. But — unless it had been stolen from her — it 
was an assurance that she had sent the messenger, that she 
wished me to trust him. 

Nevertheless, there was danger that I might fall into a trap 
in keeping a night tryst at the cave of a gypsy, especially a gypsy 
who had either deserted or been banished from the colony. But 
not to run this risk was to run a far greater one, that of losing 
the chance offered by Monica; and of such an alternative I could 
not even think. 

If I told the man who looked after my wants at the villa 
where I intended to go, I might succeed in compromising Monica, 
in case she were so late that Pepe was alarmed. As her name 
must be kept out of the affair at any cost, I decided that due 
caution would be protection enough. Unless the news of my 
presence in Granada had reached Carmona in his bed, there was 
little fear of treachery; and when I slipped into my hip pocket 
the revolver bought in Madrid, I felt that I was safe. 

It was a dark and lonely road, that way of the dead. Not a 
soul had I met when I reached a narrow path, a mere goat 
track, leading higher up the hillside to a row of four or five tiny 
lighted windows in the rock. These must, I knew, mark the cave 
dwellings of which the gypsy had spoken, some little offshoot 
from the main settlement by the Albaicin. The door which I 
reached first was closed. No one stood waiting, but I opened it 
and went in. 

A faint light, cast by a small paraffin lamp set in a niche 
hollowed out of the whitewashed rock, made darkness visible 
in a tiny room with a rough earthen floor. A red calico curtain 


317 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 

at the far end signified a second cave-room beyond. No one was 
visible, no one answered when I spoke, and I sat down to wait 
on a dilapidated rush-bottomed chair which stood with its back 
to the red curtain. 

After that, nothing. 

And then, dreams. 

There was one dream about a room, a large room it seemed 
to be, shadowy in the comers, and with walls where Christian 
and Moorish warriors fought in tapestry, leaping off sometimes 
on their stallions, and spurring back into place again. 

In the room was a great bed with dark silk curtains. A man 
lay in it, but suddenly sat up, and looked eagerly at something 
which seemed to be myself, dead or dying. But I did not care. 
I knew who he was, and that we hated each other for some reason 
which I could not remember, but it was impossible to recall 
his name. That was twisted up in a thousand skeins of silk; or 
was it a woman’s yellow hair ? 

The man exclaimed, “ Good — very good, ” more than once 
to someone I could not see. Then he said, when the someone 
else had spoken, “ Only keep him till after I’m married. I don’t 
care what you do with him after that. Fling him into a well, or let 
him go. Either way he can never find out or prove anything 
troublesome. ” 

This was all of that part of the dream, though there was an- 
other which came soon after, and was somehow connected with 
it. It was a dream about a long dark passage, which smelled 
like a cellar, and I was being dragged through it by two voices, 
a thing which did not appear at all out of the ordinary, though 
it was disagreeable. 

After that, concrete thoughts were lost in one tremendous 
throbbing ache, which was in the back of my head at first, but 
spread slowly down the spine, until at last my whole body felt as 
if it had been pounded with giant hammers. 

I had an idea at one time that I had fallen into the power cf 


318 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

the Inquisition, and been tortured by the head screw and the 
rack, because often a man in a black capucha flitted about me; 
but later I realized that my suffering was caused by becoming 
conscious of the world’s motion — a terrible, ceaseless whirling, 
which, being once felt, could be escaped only in death. 

This was appalling. I lived through many years of the horror, 
but I fell off the world at last on to another planet, where there 
came a period of peace. 

When I waked up I was looking at my hands. 

To my great surprise they were no longer brown and strong 
as a young man’s hands ought to be, but of a sickly white, and 
so thin that I found myself laughing at them in a slow, soft way, 
as one laughs in one’s sleep. 

It did not seem to matter at first that I should have hands like 
that; but suddenly, with a rush of blood to the heart, I realized 
that it was unnatural, dreadful, that something hideous must 
have happened to me. 

In a moment my head was clear, and I felt as if a tight band 
had been taken off my forehead. 

Yes, something had happened, but what ? 

I looked round and saw a room unfamiliar, yet already hated. 
It was a small, but beautiful room, the walls covered with Moor- 
ish work, such as I had seen at the Alhambra. I lay on a divan- 
bed, in an alcove without windows; but in the room beyond, I 
saw one with a dainty filigree frame, supported by a marble 
pillar. There was also an archway, from which a curtain was 
pushed aside, and I could see the end of a marble bath. 

How had I come to this place ? Where was it, and how long 
had I been there ? were the next questions I asked myself. 

There was no more dreaming now. The room was real; and 
the whiteness and emaciation of my hands was real. A man must 
have been very ill, and for a long time, to have hands as white 
and thin as that. 

Suddenly I sat up, crying aloud, “Monica!” 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 


319 


The sound of her name brought her image before me. What 
horrible thing had been done to me that I should have forgotten 
her very existence ? 

Strength failed, and I fell back, a dampness coming out on my 
forehead. Above all, what had been done to her ? “ Don’t leave 
me alone, ” she had begged ; yet I had deserted her. I was — here. 

The motoring days came back to me; happy, hopeful days in 
the open air. How long ago were they that I should be thus 
broken, that I should feel like a man grown old ? 

Slowly, and cold as the trail of a snake, a thought crawled 
into my mind. 

I remembered a short story I had read once. It was by Ger- 
trude Atherton, and at the time I had thought it the most harrow- 
ing story ever written. A woman had gone to sleep, young, 
beautiful, beloved. She had waked to find her hair grey, her 
hands old and veined. Twenty blank years of madness she had 
spent in a lunatic asylum, after being driven mad by a shock, 
waking to sanity at last only to find herself an old woman. 

Had I been mad? Was I old now, with my wasted white 
hands ? 

Tingling with dread I touched my face. My chin was rough 
with a stubble of beard. I fancied there were hollows in my 
cheeks. Was my hair grey ? 

Somewhere there must be a mirror. I tried to struggle up and 
find it, that I might see my own image and know the worst; but a 
giddiness came over me, and I had to lie down again, or I knew 
that I should faint. 

“ I have Carmona to thank for this, ” I said aloud, furiously. 
But then I asked myself, how did I know that there ever had been 
a Carmona, that there ever had been a girl called Monica Vale ? 
Perhaps I had dreamed them both, in the time of madness. 

There had been many dreams. Suddenly I remembered a 
man’s voice saying: “Only keep him till after I’m married.” 
The voice had been Carmona’s. I knew that now. 

No, I had never been mad. A horrible trick had been played 


320 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


on me — in the gypsy’s cave. I remembered that. Everything 
was blank since, except for the dreams. Perhaps some of them 
had been true. Perhaps, half-unconscious — (for someone must 
have come out from behind that red curtain and struck me on 
the head) — I had been taken to him, that he might be sure it 
was the right man. Someone had been ordered to keep me, until 
after — Again I sat up, with a groan. I must get out of this. I 
must save Monica from the man, and from her own mother. 
But — if it was already too late ? 

There was a sound in the room. From a door I could not see, 
someone had come in. A key had turned, and was being turned 
again. The dream of the Inquisition came back to my mind, for 
the man in the black capucha stood looking at me. 

“ Who are you ?” I asked. Although for many years I had 
spoken English, and Spanish only for a few weeks, it was mechan- 
ically that I used Spanish now. 

“Your good friend,” came from under the capucha, while 
there was a glitter of eyes through the two slanting slits in the 
black silk. 

“ If you’re my friend, you’ll let me out of this place, wherever 
it is, ” I said. 

“ But I am your doctor as well, and you are too weak to go 
out. This is the first time you have spoken sensible words, and 
now they are not wise. ” 

“ I’m not too weak to hear how I came here, how long I have 
been, and — ” He cut me short, with a wave of a yellow old hand. 
Under the capucha he wore an ordinary black coat, such as 
elderly Spaniards of the middle class wear every day. 

“ You must not excite yourself, ” he said. “ As for your coming 
here, I found you lying in the road one dark night, with your 
head cut open, and out of compassion I brought you into my 
house. ” 

“ If you are a doctor, and have no reason to hide your face 
from me, why do you cover it up with a capucha ? ” I went on 
incredulously. 


321 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 

“ It is the capucha of the cofrad a to which I belong , 99 ex- 
plained the man. “ I wear it at certain hours because of a vow 
which will not expire till Corpus Christi. If I were a wicked 
person, who wished you harm, why need I trouble to hide 
my face so that you should not know it again ? I live alone in 
this house, and if I wished you evil, I need never let you leave 
these rooms. But instead, I have taken care of you, and you have 
repaid some experiments I have made, for now I think you are 
getting well. You have only to be patient. ” 

“Tell me how long since you played good Samaritan and 
picked me up by the roadside, ” said I. “ Then perhaps I shall 
try to be patient.” 

“ How long ? ” he echoed. “ I can’t tell you that. To a philo- 
sopher like me days and weeks are much the same. ” 

“ Philosophers have often been in the pay of dukes, ” I said. 

“ Those days have passed. I live my life without dukes. ” 

“Without the Duke of Carmona?” 

“ The Duke of Carmona ? That is a mere name to me. Why 
do you speak it ? ” 

“ I think you can guess . 99 

“ I fear that after all your brain is not clear. We must have a 
little more of the good medicine. ” 

Before I knew what he meant to do, he was out of the alcove, 
and out of sight in the room beyond. Again I tried my strength, 
and would have followed, but before I could do more than 
struggle up from the bed, the door had been unlocked, and locked 
again. 

“ He must keep the key in his pocket, ” I thought. 

I did not believe a word of the plausible explanations. The 
continued mental effort I had been making had cleared, rather 
than tired my brain; and I was out of that black sea of horror 
in which I had been drowning. 

I had not been mad, and I could not have been in this house 
for many weeks, since the man in the capucha talked of Corpus 
Christi as still in the future. 


322 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


I remembered Colonel O’Donnel’s telegram, and his mention 
of a man in Granada whom Carmona valued above many doc- 
tors. It seemed not impossible that this person and my “good 
friend ” were one and the same; but if — weak as I was now — I 
hoped to get out of his house alive, perhaps I had better change 
my tactics, and keep my suspicions to myself, until I should 
recover strength. If the man believed that he had convinced 
me of his innocence and kindly intentions, he would per- 
haps think it easier to let me live than to put me violently out 
of the way. 

I made up my mind to cultivate a more reasonable spirit, 
until my body could help me defend other convictions. And one 
thing gave me courage to keep the resolution. The fact that my 
host was not willing yet to discharge me as cured, argued that 
there was still a strong motive for detaining me behind locked 
doors. The time of which Carmona had spoken in my dream 
had not come. He was not married yet, and I said to myself that 
he never would be, if it depended on Monica’s consent to be 
his wife. 

Since that hour in the cathedral of Seville nothing would 
make her believe me disloyal, I thought; therefore nothing could 
make her disloyal to me. 

Knowing little of illness, I trusted that, after all, I had not 
been put away here for long. Maybe a few days of fever and 
delirium would waste the hands and bleach out the brown stain 
of sunburn. At the moment, though I was young, and had been 
strong, I would have no chance against even an old man ; but if 
I ate, and could crawl up to take a little exercise, a day or two 
ought to make a vast difference. 

I was still of this mind when the capucha came back. So 
softly did he unlock the door that I did not hear him, but he was 
not as stealthy about locking it again. He had brought me a 
glass of milk; and when I had drunk it he asked me to get up, 
and let him judge of my strength. 

Weak as I was, I felt that I could have risen, but I determined 


DREAMS AND AN AWAKENING 323 

to fight him with his own weapons. Maldng a faint effort, I fell 
back on the pillows, and closed my eyes. 

“ It will take many more glasses of milk before you need again 
ask ‘ But when do I leave you ? 9 99 said the voice through the 
capucha. 

I agreed, and pleased myself with my strategy after the man 
had gone out, until to my alarm I was overcome with sleep. 

He had put something into the milk. 


AAA V ill 


THE FOUNTAIN 


T HE delicate fretwork of the walls was blurred in twi- 
light when I waked from heavy, irresistible sleep. 

I felt dull, but could trace no other bad effect from 
the drug. Indeed, I fancied that I was stronger; and 
very slowly, with occasional rests, I got upon my feet and began 
to crawl about the room. 

There was very little furniture, but what there was, was good, 
and of a graceful Moorish design which suited the wall decora- 
tion, and the horseshoe shape of the window. This had an elabo- 
rate lattice of wood, which let in plenty of air, as there was no 
glass; but outside were six stout bars of iron, and the lattice was 
securely fastened. I stared through the pattern of wood into a 
very small but charming patio , paved with brick and tiles, and 
having in the centre a fountain, with a shallow basin. Feathery 
piumes of water played over a few low palms in great blue and 
white pots of Triana ware, but as I looked the plumes shrank 
almost to nothing, then ceased to wave. The fountain was asleep 
for the night. 

Supporting myself with a hand on the wall, I got to the room 
of the marble bath. There, the window was but a foot square, 
and was set high in the wall. On a low, carved bench, lay the 
clothing I had worn on the night of my visit to the gypsy’s cave. 
I sat down, and explored the pockets. What money I had had — 
six or seven hundred pesetas, so far as I could remember — 
was gone; so was my gold watch, and the revolver I had so gaily 
carried as a sure means of self-protection. 

324 


325 


THE FOUNTAIN 

“ Gypsy perquisites,” I said to myself, but the sight of the 
clothes brought back the past so vividly that I could see myself 
bidding good-bye to Dick at the railway station. Loyal, resource- 
ful old Dick! Why had he not found his friend in all this time, 
while my hands were growing white and thin ? 

Surely there must have been some hue or cry, when I did not 
appear either at the villa or the hotel ? A man cannot vanish off 
the face of the earth, I told myself, and leave no trace. I longed 
for the man with the capucha to come back, so that I could ask 
him more questions, even though I could put no faith in his 
answers ; but he did not appear again that night. I slept after a 
time, a sleep of exhaustion ; and when I waked in broad daylight, 
I found a glass of milk on a small Moorish stand by the bed. 

I could not bear to drink it, lest the same drug should make me 
sleep as before. But how regain strength without food? And 
evidently I was to have this or none 

For a time I waited, hoping that my “good friend” would 
come, and that, if I told him I disliked milk, he would give me 
something else, not so easy to mix with a drug. At last, however, 
I grew faint. Perhaps, I thought, the milk was innocent this time. 
I drank, and the same heaviness overcame me. So, through most 
of the day I slept, and raged against myself when I awoke. 

Again, a full glass stood by the bedside, but I would not drink. 
Many hours of dozing had left me wakeful; and my eyes were 
wide open when, an hour o two after dawn, the door in the outer 
room was softly unlocked. 

He had not forgotten his capucha , though he must have ex- 
pected to find me asleep. In his hand was a glass of milk, but 
when he had seen that I lay awake, he saw also that the other 
glass had not been touched. 

I was neither hungry no thirsty, I said in excuse. And I could 
not rest because I was not comfortable. It had got upon my 
nerves, I explained, to feel my hair long on my neck and my face 
unshaven. Would my host get in a barber? 

The man reflected for a moment, and then said that he would 


326 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


do his best as a barber. At present, and until his vow had been 
accomplished, he did not go out, except after nightfall, and there- 
fore could not ask anyone to come to the house. 

The instant he had turned his back, I slipped off the bed, so 
that I might be ready to stagger as well as I could from my alcove, 
and pounce upon him when he had the door open ; for I believed 
that I was strong enough now to have some chance. But his hear- 
ing must have been keen, for he turned, and told me not to exert 
myself. What — I was only getting up so as to be ready when he 
came back with shears and razor ? I need not trouble. He would 
do all while I was in bed ; and he would wait until he had seen 
me return there. 

He was master of the situation, and knew it. I was obliged to 
give him his way; and afterwards he was so quick in getting to 
the door that, in my weak state, I could not have reached him 
in time. 

When he came back, however, I was ready. Waiting just in- 
side the door, as it was cautiously opened I threw myself upon 
him. But I had overestimated my strength, and underestimated 
his. Quick and lithe as a leopard, the old man wound himself 
round me, and for a moment we struggled together for the mas- 
tery, I thinking of the razor he had promised to bring, and hoping 
to get it. If I could, I should be able to keep him at bay, without 
any violence, save threats. 

Once, I had almost got him down, or he let me fancy it; but 
with a sudden twist he caused me to lose my balance, which was 
none too steady. I slipped on the tiled floor, and had half saved 
myself when a quick push sent me staggering back. Instantly 
the capucha was on the other side of the door, a bolt slid into 
place, and the key turned in the lock. 

Rage gave me a brief spurt of strength. I caught up the carved 
wooden bench in the bathroom, and dashed it furiously again 
and again against a panel of the door. But the strong wood did 
not even crack under my blows. 

As hour after hour passed, and I was left alone, from time to 


327 


THE FOUNTAIN 

time I renewed my efforts, with no result except that eventually 
I broke the bench. Then I tore at the lattice of the window, 
thrusting my fingers through, and trying vainly to pull the wood- 
work to pieces. Though the iron bars on the outside would 
prevent my escaping into the patio , I knew, if the lattice were 
broken, shouts might be heard more easily. 

At last, when I had been obliged to give up hope, I pressed my 
face against the close pattern of the woodwork and yelled lustily, 
till my voice failed. But my own shouts were the only sounds I 
heard, save distant church bells, and the singing of subterra- 
nean waters, silent only at night when the fountain went to 
sleep. It would be all but impossible, I had to admit, for anyone 
outside to judge the direction of a cry, coming through a screened 
window surrounded on all sides by high house walls. 

Darkness fell ; and I grew so hungry that I would gladly have 
drunk the milk left since morning. I tasted it, and found it spoiled 
by the heat, for the day had been warm. In disgust I threw it 
away, but when all that night had gone and part of the next day, 
I regretted my fastidiousness. 

Frequent draughts of water from the room of the marble bath 
gave me an occasional fillip, but a man recovering from conges- 
tion of the brain or some such malady, following the breaking 
of his head, cannot live long on water; and it was clear that my 
host, disgusted with my “ ingratitude,” intended to punish me 
cruelly or to put an end to me by starvation. 

When the second night closed in, I made up my mind that 
he had decided upon my death. Perhaps, if I had been docile, 
when the time fixed by his employer had expired, he might have 
chosen to set me free, trusting that I believed his story. But see- 
ing that I did not believe it, that I would spare no effort, no trick, 
which might enable me to escape while my presence in the out- 
side world was still highly undesirable, the man had probably 
crushed all humane feeling for his prisoner. Since no one had 
sought me, living, in his house, it was unlikely that I should be 
sought for there when dead. 


328 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


I was at the window, as I told myself these things, looking out 
into the patio , where the palms, and the shell which was the upper 
basin of the fountain, were faintly definable in starlight. Robbed 
of my watch, the only way I had of calculating time after night- 
fall was by the silence which came about an hour after sunset. 
Then the gurgling voice of hidden water (which sang under- 
ground in this secluded patio as everywhere in the Albaicin, and 
on the Alhambra hill) abruptly ceased, after a distant ringing 
which I took to be that of the bell in the Torre de la Yela, regu- 
lating the irrigation of all the country round. At this same mo- 
ment the diamond plumes of the fountain invariably fell, and 
disappeared, not to wave again until the morning sun was up. 

I was always sorry when the fountain died, for it was the sole 
companion of my captivity, my one dim pleasure watching its 
nymph-like play. And to-night the dead silence of the patio 
seemed the lull before my own death. 

It must have been, I thought, somewhere about ten o’clock 
when I heard a new sound in the court, slight, elusive, but dis- 
tinct. Chink — chink — like metal on stone, as if a troll were 
mining underground. The old man was taking time by the fore- 
lock, I said grimly to myself, getting ready a place in some cellar 
to lay me away when I should be finished. I should last some 
days yet; but it took time to do these things well. At the hotel 
they had told me how a year or two ago, in destroying an old 
house in the Albaicin to build a new one on the sight, workmen 
had come across the skeletons of two French grenadiers neatly 
sealed up in a wall of stone, where they had kept guard since the 
time of the Peninsular War. Probably a night or two had been 
needed for the making of their niche. 

Chink — chink ! Yes, the old wretch must be at work in a 
cellar. The noise certainly came from underground; and it was 
not as agreeable to my ears as the tinkle of the vanished foun- 
tain. I wished the hour would come for the water to leap up and 
drown that other stealthy sound. 

Suddenly, as I turned a wistful gaze on the alabaster shell 


THE FOUNTAIN 


dimly glimmering among the low palms, to my astonishment it 
seemed to totter. I thought that it must be a mere illusion of 
weary eyes, or that the effect was created by a cloud obscuring 
the starlight. But again the white shell moved against the dark 
green background, this time swaying from side to side. 

Could there be an earthquake, so slight that I did not feel the 
shock? Even as I asked myself the question, the shell of the 
fountain was loosened from its support, and fell into the main 
basin, now almost empty. The water-lilies and their green pads 
which floated sparsely there muffled the sound of the crash, but 
there was a noise of breaking. The slabs of coloured mosaic 
which paved the lower basin upheaved, as if the earth beneath 
were bursting, and scattered from side to side, falling over the 
crushed lilies. Then though a ragged black aperture rose the 
head and shoulders of a man. 

The metallic sound had stopped; but from somewhere in the 
house there came the slamming of a door. 

The head and shoulders, motionless now, were sharply de- 
fined against the scattered heap of white fragments, like the bust 
of a man modelled in black marble. Someone whistled softly, 
and the tune was, “ The Girl I Left Behind Me.” 

“ Dick!” I called through the close wooden lattice. 

“ Hurrah ! ” he answered ; and the black marble bust Decame 
a full length statue of a man. 

How he had found me, how he had come, I did not know; 
but there he was, and the gate of life had not closed upon me 
after all. Dick was out of the jagged hole in the basin, and half 
across the patio , when a door, which I had always seen shut, 
burst open to let out a stream of light, and the figure of the old 
man I knew so well, leaped on him. 

I was weak, and for a moment I turned sick, the patio with its 
broken fountain, and the forms of the men in a halo of yellow 
light, whirling before my eyes as if there were indeed an earth- 
quake. Then the mist cleared, and like a rat in a cage I watched 
the fight which meant life or death for more than one of us. 


330 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


There was no capucha now to cover the grey-streaked head 
and venerable beard. Once I caught a glimpse of a profile sharp 
as a hawk’s. The old man had come out of the house with a 
Toledo sword-stick, such as the King and his friend had used, and 
as he saw the enemy he had to deal with, had thrown away the 
bamboo stick. The long, thin blade glittered in the same light 
that showed me Dick, armed with an iron crowbar, formidable 
and threatening. 

If it had been a scene in a play, and I in the audience, I should 
have applauded, for there was something in me which cried out 
that it was a fine picture. But Dick’s life and mine were in the 
balance. 


XXXIX 


“ DAY AFTER TO-MORROW ” 

T HE pair stood eyeing each other like two fencers, 
Dick with the crowbar raised, and pointing at his 
heart the blade which would pierce it if the Spaniard 
dared advance an inch. 

I longed to shout “ Fling the crowbar at his head!” But if 
Dick’s eye left the eye of his opponent he was a dead man. I 
must not risk distracting him for the fraction of a second. 

It seemed an hour, though it could not have been a minute 
when, as if my thought had winged to his brain, the thick iron 
bar whirled through the air, and struck the old man full upon the 
forehead. The Toledo blade dropped from his hand, and he fell 
back without a cry, his head inside the open door. 

“Is he dead?” I called. 

Dick bent over the limp body; but, after a long moment, he 
was up again, waving a big, old-fashioned key. 

“ No, ” he answered. “ Heart beating. Bad penny. He’ll be all 
right. This the key of spider’s parlour ? ” 

“I think so,” I said. “Dick, you’re just in time to keep me 
from giving in. I’m starved. ” 

He stooped and picked up the crowbar. 

“Old brute! I’ve a mind to finish him!” he exclaimed. 

“ You don’t mean that, ” I said. “ But look for something to 
tie him up with. He may come to himself before we’re off. ” 

“ I guess I’ll just tote him along with me, ” said Dick. “ Safe 
bind, safe find.” 

Gathering up the long body as if it had been the form of a 

331 


332 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


sleeping child, Dick disappeared into the house. I knew that he 
was looking for the door of my cage, and presently — for the 
first time with pleasure — I heard the slipping back of the bolt 
and turning of the key. 

Already I was at the door, opening it for Dick to come in with 
his heavy burden. 

“ Here’s the bed, ” I said, and Dick laid his burden down, not 
too gently. Then I think the next thing we did was to shake 
hands. 

“Blessed old man!” exclaimed Dick, a little unsteadily. 
“What a beastly business.” 

“ It’s a mystery, ” I said. “And how you got to me — ” 

“ Conduit, ” said Dick, “ But I’ll tell you all about that, and 
everything. Got no electric light here?” 

“Nothing but starlight. For Heaven’s sake, tell me about 
Monica ! ” 

“She’s all right,” said Dick. “Not a Duchess yet, if that’s 
what worries you. Look here, if this place has been good enough 
to box you up in all this time, it’s good enough to keep him in — ” 
(He nodded towards the alcove.) “ He lives alone here, without 
servants; I’ve found out all that, with a lot more; and his master 
— guess you know who — is in Madrid ; so when this chap comes 
to himself he can try how he likes your quarters. They seem 
rather nice ones, judging from what I can see; but Carmona 
always does himself well. ” 

“Is this Carmona’s house?” I asked. 

“ You bet it is. Little private sort of place he keeps ready when 
he wants to amuse himself in some way which Monica and 
other people mightn’t approve of in Dukes. This old Johnny’s 
a combination of caretaker and physician in ordinary to his 
grace. But let’s get out of this. I can’t give you a marble bath or 
Moorish decorations at my hotel, but I shouldn’t wonder if you’d 
prefer the accommodation; and after that conduit business I 
need a ‘wash and brush up ’ as much as you do. Why, old man, 
what’s the matter ? Not going to crack up, are you ? ” 


“ DAY AFTER TO-MORROW * 


333 


“I’m all right,” I said; “but I haven’t had anything to eat 
since the day after I saw you off, except milk, and none of that 
for the last two days. ” 

“ Great Scott ! you’re joking. We parted five weeks ago ! ” 

The words gave me a shock in spite of the stubble on my chin 
and the whiteness of my hands. Dick had his wet arm round my 
shoulders, and we were at the door, which he was about to lock, 
and I startled him by caving in a little at the knees. 

“ See here, ” he said, hanging on to my arm as if he were afraid 
I should vanish in thin air, “ we won’t wait to dine at my hotel. 
We’ll nose round a bit in this old Johnny’s larder. You must 
be bucked up before you go out into the street. Oh, it’s safe 
enough. The old brute’s a hermit — for his own reasons or Car- 
mona’s. Nobody comes near the house, and we can take our 
own time. While you’re eating you shall hear everything I’ve 
got to tell. ” 

He locked and bolted the door, and helped me down the 
stairs, up which I must have been carried unconscious; perhaps 
by the gypsy, assisted by the master of the house. 

Below stairs the place was dark save for the light which had 
streamed out into the patio with the opening door. It came from 
a good-sized room evidently intended for a kitchen, but also 
used by the solitary tenant as a dining-room. It had a window 
opening on the court; this, however, was not only covered with 
heavy shutters, but protected by a curtain as well, and ventila- 
tion came through an adjoining room from a window that looked 
on another small court. 

Evidently my gaoler had been interrupted in the midst of his 
supper, and hearing a noise in the patio had stopped only long 
enough to snatch up a sword-stick. On the table was a simple 
meal of cold meat, salad, goats’-milk cheese, and fresh fruit; 
but to my starved eyes it seemed a feast. There was also a bottle 
half -full of red Spanish wine; and I did not wait for Dick’s 
suggestion to sit down. I must get back my strength if I were 
to be of any use to Monica or myself, and I hardly listened to 


334 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

Dick’s warning that a starved man must not satisfy his first 
hunger. 

“Eat slowly, and not too much,” he said, with anxious eyes 
on my face, which must have been frightful, though he was too 
tactful to make comments. As I obeyed, he told me his story, 
briefly and disjoin tedly, as the points came back to him. 

“Didn’t hear from you,” he said, “and began wondering 
what was up. Wired twice; no answer; was a bit taken up with 
my own affairs just then, I’m afraid. Yes, I mean Pilar. After 
five days, wired the landlord. He answered you’d left with a 
friend. I thought that queer, and set out for Granada by next 
train, Ropes with me. At the Washington Irving I found both my 
telegrams to you and a letter. Landlord said he got a note from 
you, dated Motril, telling him you’d met a friend and gone off 
unexpectedly in his automobile. You enclosed more than enough 
money to pay bill and tips, and asked him to have your luggage 
packed and kept till your return, which might be in a few days or 
not for some time. Naturally, he hadn’t worried; and as he’d 
destroyed the letter, I couldn’t tell if it was your handwriting. 

“ Well, I thought you might have rushed off suddenly on ac- 
count of some lark of Carmona’s; but I soon found out he was 
still in Granada, slowly getting better; and the guests hadn’t 
gone. By the way, I called, but nobody in the house was seeing 
visitors. Ropes discovered that your car was in a stable down in 
the town, where you’d left it, without saying for how long. He 
and I were getting scared, and I went to the police, but didn’t 
dare give your real name without your permission, especially 
as the authorities had a kind of prejudice against it. Fired off 
my best Spanish, though, and insinuated that Carmona wasn’t 
very fond of you; but when I began hinting that it might be 
convenient for his plans that you should disappear, they wouldn’t 
take me seriously, were polite, and all that, promised to look 
you up, as if you were a stray kitten, but intimated that most 
people who vanished had private reasons for doing so. 

“After that, I didn’t expect them to find out anything, and 


“DAY AFTER TO-MORROW” 


335 

they did their best not to disappoint me. I saw that if anybody 
was going to do the Sherlock Holmes’ act, it must be Ropes and 
me. We sat tight at the Washington Irving, and looked around; 
but at the end of a fortnight no one was any wiser than at the 
beginning. Then what should happen but the dear old Colonel 
and Pilar popped down to see if they could help. Oh, and I for- 
got to tell you that meanwhile the people at Carmona’s palace 
had cleared out. They’d gone back to Seville again by train; 
and what should happen but the Colonel and Pilar met Carmona 
face to face in the station. ” 

“Not Monica?” I broke in. 

“No. I suppose the others had got into a carriage; he was 
lingering behind to give a valet directions about luggage. And 
then there was a scene. Pilar told me all about it. Carmona 
bowed ; and before the Cherub could pull the little girl away, as 
he tried, seeing danger in her eye, she gave the Duke a piece of 
her mind. Said he was a villain, or some kind words of that sort. 
He retorted by saying to her father that he could make a lot of 
trouble for Cristobal if they didn’t take care. Pilar said they 
could accuse him of worse things than he could them ; and some- 
how or other, in an evil moment, the subject of Corcito, a grey 
bull Carmona was once nasty about, came up. Then, before she 
knew what she was doing, Pilar flashed out the name of Yivillo, 
the beast she wanted to buy, you know. And from that minute 
the fat was in the fire as far as she was concerned. But about 
that later. What with you and the bull, she was in a dreadful 
state of mind when she got here, poor child. However, she put 
on her thinking cap, and said she, ‘ Try the gypsies. See if they 
don’t know something.’ 

“ That was enough for me. I took a sudden fancy to Captain 
Pepe, the chief of the gypsies, and went every night to see a dance 
in his cave. But I soon saw he was straight; and they weren’t a 
bad lot of people in the colony. The nasty ones he kicked out, 
and they had to hustle for themselves. Captain Pepe told me 
about one fellow, Juan Castello, who’d got himself disliked, 


336 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


though he was a nailer with the guitar; and when he said the 
chap had a sister who had a fine position in the house of a titled 
person, because she was the best seamstress in the country, I 
pricked up my ears. You can bet, after I’d heard the titled person 
was Carmona, I turned my attention to Mr. Castello, dropped 
in on him one day, named a big price, and asked him to give me 
lessons on the guitar. He didn’t mind if he did, and we got quite 
friendly. I spent several evenings in his cave, where one night 
I heard a dog howling, as if it was mighty sick, behind a red 
curtain. ” 

“That red curtain!” I exclaimed. “I shouldn’t be where I 
am now, or have a scar on the back of my head, if I’d looked 
behind it.” 

“By Jove! Well, I got some idea of that sort. Castello said 
the dog belonged to a gentleman in Granada, who lived all alone 
in the Albaicin, and kept this beast as a watch-dog ; but he was 
afraid it was going mad, and told Castello to shoot it. However, 
it was a valuable animal, and Castello was undertaking to cure 
it for his own benefit. Already it was better, and the owner 
talked of buying it back if it recovered. The old gentleman was 
coming up to see the dog that very evening, perhaps, Castello 
said ; and being evidently proud of a respectable acquaintance, 
he went on talking about him, I encouraging him all I could, 
because any friend of his might prove interesting to me. 

“ The minute I heard the chap was a kind of herb doctor, 
and sometimes treated grand people, I nearly jumped off my 
seat; for you know why Carmona was supposed to come to 
Granada ? ” 

I nodded. 

“ Well, Castello was in with him in a way, for he was engaged 
by him to fetch herbs and flowers from the mountains — like 
the Manzanilla, for instance, which only begins to grow at an 
elevation of twelve thousand feet. Castello believed that the old 
fellow could make poisons too, as well as antidotes; and said I 
to myself, 4 Maybe that little dagger in the cathedral was 


“DAY AFTER TO-MORROW ” 337 

specially prepared, eh ? ’ Which would account for Carmona 
hurrying off to Granada after it Jiad found the wrong billet. 

“ Anyhow, I said I’d like to see the dog, so I was taken behind 
the red curtain into Mr. Castello’s bedroom, and on a shelf lay a 
revolver which might have been twin to the one you bought in 
Madrid.” 

“ It was still more nearly related, ” said I. 

“Well, I thought so, but wasn’t sure enough to call on the 
police. I went away when I’d said nice things about the sick dog; 
but I didn’t go far. I hung around till Castello’s visitor had been 
and gone, and then followed him to the door of this house. Such 
a mild, intelligent looking, well-dressed old gentleman, the herb 
doctor was; but I guess I needn’t describe him to you ! 

“ Next day I bought some things at a baker’s not far from here, 
and buttered up the shopkeeper, saying his store was too good 
for the neighbourhood. Of course he told me he had good cus- 
tomers, and it was jolly lucky I’d been fagging up Spanish for 
Pilar’s sake, or I should have missed a lot, right there. I soon 
got him on the subject of the herb doctor, his best client, who, 
though supposed to be rich, and living in a good house, did all 
his shopping himself and kept no servants. Nobody knew much 
about him, except what he said of himself; that he could set 
bones, and was able to make as much money as he liked, selling 
his herb medicines to great personages. Who were the great 
personages? The baker couldn’t tell; but the doctor had lived 
in his present house for years, after taking it when in a bad state 
of repair, and having it done up inside by workmen he brought 
from Madrid. From that day on, no one the baker knew had ever 
been invited in, though he’d heard stories of veiled ladies, and 
sounds of music at night. 

“ At that, the thought jumped into my mind that maybe the 
house was Carmona’s, a little secret plaything of his. And I 
remembered reading about a famous old palace in the Albaicin 
with an underground way to the Alhambra. Why shouldn’t 
there be such a way from Carmona’s palace to the doctor’s 


338 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


hv^use? And what a convenient place it would be to keep a 
troublesome person.” 

“ Or to kill one, ” I amended. 

“ I thought of that; but I hoped. People don’t commit murder 
when their blood is cool if they can get what they want cheaper. 
I went again to the police, said I believed that my friend was 
detained against his will in the house of Doctor Molina. Eut 
when they wanted my reasons I couldn’t give any to convince 
them. They thought I was mad, and refused to search. I was 
afraid they’d warn the old chap to look out for a crazy American, 
so I hurried up and took matters into my own hands. 

“ I wasn’t sure enough of anything to jump on the man out- 
side his own door and do the burglar act openly, lest the police 
should jump on me , and I should be laid by before I’d found you. 
But about that time I began to have water on the brain; 
or rather, I got possessed with the idea of sneaking into 
houses by means of conduits; and no wonder, when the whole 
Albaicin is honeycombed with watercourses, gluddering and 
gurgling from morning till night. 

“ In the next street to this, there’s a Moorish house of much 
the same sort, being tom down. They were selling old tiles to 
curiosity dealers one day, so I strolled into the patio. The pave- 
ment was up, and I saw how the conduit ran underneath and 
supplied the fountain. That was instructive. Opposite this place 
of Molina’s is a mill. I found out how he got his water, and that 
after it turned his wheel, it poured in this direction, being turned 
off every night about nine. At the miller’s the conduit is open, only 
guarded by a rail; and I developed a taste for making sketches 
and taking photographs — tourist in search of the picturesque; 
miller got used to seeing me about, while I made myself familiar 
with the landscape. Then I bought a crowbar and a little electric 
lamp. The bar I hid under my coat; and when I was ready to 
shed the garment. Ropes put it on. I guess it was a looser fit for 
him than that conduit was for me, and there were twelve feet of 
conduit; good long strait- jacket, but I’ve been in it a lot of times 


DAY AFTER TO-MORROW 


339 


now, and feel quite at home. You see, the job couldn’t be done 
in one go, for I had to make the hole under the fountain bigger, 
and I’ve been tinkering away for nearly a week, o’ nights when 
the water was stopped. And if I’d come up at last, like a demon 
in a pantomime, to find I’d had my trouble for my pains, I can’t 
say what I should have turned my wits to next. ” 

“Does Pilar know?” I asked. 

“ She and the Colonel went off in a hurry to Madrid just be- 
fore I took the job on. They thought they could influence the po- 
lice at headquarters, which was their principal reason for going; 
though they had one or two others besides. But see here, you’ve 
got the story pat now, and you’re looking a thousand per cent, 
more healthy than when you sat down at this table ten minutes 
ago. Poor old Ropes, who always hangs about keeping guard, 
will be mighty glad to see you ; but before we open the door and 
walk out as if we owned the house, let’s have a look round. There 
may be something which will give me a chance to say ‘I told you 
so ! ’ to the police. ” 

Refreshed with wine, and such scanty rations as Dick had 
allowed, I walked steadily enough into the adjoining room, 
while Dick carried a lamp. There were no such gorgeous decora- 
tions here, as in the suite I had reluctantly occupied. A modem 
bed stood in one comer. There were shelves on the wall, fitted 
with glass doors which protected jars and bottles. On a large 
table lay an outfit for chemical experiments, and on another 
some yellow flowers half buried in green leaves. In the window 
was a modem desk, and Dick at once began to rummage among 
the few papers in the pigeon-holes. There was nothing, how- 
ever, which seemed to bear upon our affairs, with the exception 
of a telegraph form, which I seized upon. It was dated June first, 
and had been sent from a Madrid office. There was no signature, 
but there was a hint of something secret in the three words it 
contained. “Day after to-morrow.” 

Dick and I stared at the paper, as if we expected the meaning 
of the message to spring up to our eyes. 


340 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


“My name’s not Richard D. Waring if Carmona’s signature 
oughtn’t to be tacked on to that, ” he said. “ Now, we’ve some- 
thing to go upon, for a beginning. This telegram will be traced 
to the sender before I’m many hours older; we can trust our dear 
old Cherub for that. ” 

“ Day after to-morrow, ” I repeated. “ What’s going to happen 
day after to-morrow, that Carmona should have wired to this 
man ? ” 

“ I should say it was his way of letting Molina know that the 
cage door could open.” 

“ But why day after to-morrow ? He — ” I broke off suddenly, 
and it seemed that my heart would stop beating. “Dick,” I 
began again, in a queer voice that did not sound like my own, 
“ is Monica — ” I could not finish the sentence. But Dick under- 
stood. 

“ Forgive me, ” he said. “ I saw you weren’t strong enough to 
bear it at first. I wanted you to eat, and then — I’d have kept 
it back a bit longer if I could, just till I got you to the hotel. 
She’s going to marry him — on the third of June, Heaven knows 
why, though Pilar vows the girl can’t be to blame, and that 
they’ve made her believe somehow she’s sacrificing herself for 
your sake. ” 

“ What day is this ? ” I asked. 

“ The first. The Royal Wedding was yesterday, and a terrible 
bomb explosion, in which the King and Queen had a narrow 
escape, and — but come, Ramon, I want to get you to the hotel. ” 

“ I’m not going to the hotel, ” I said. “ I’m going to Madrid, 
to stop Carmona’s marriage. ” 


XL 


THROUGH THE NIGHT 

D ICK looked at me with indulgent sympathy, as if I 
were a child. 

“It’s after eleven o’clock at night,” he said. “The 
train for Madrid went two hours ago, and — ” 

“ Did you say Ropes was waiting for you outside ? ” I asked. 
“Yes.” 

“ And my car’s still in the garage where I put it ? ” 

“Yes; but you’re not in a fit state for a journey. If you could 
see yourself — ” 

“Oh, I know I’m a nightmare apparition,” I cut in; “but 
when I’m shaved and — ” 

“ The trip would kill you.” 

“ It would kill me not to take it.” 

We looked at each other for a moment, then Dick said — 

“All right. Come on. I know what you feel. But what about 
that old reprobate upstairs ? ” 

“ I’ll wait for you here while you take up some food and leave 
it in the room. We can’t waste time in Granada on his account. 
I’ll tell my story, and you can tell yours to the police in Madrid, 
after I — after I’ve done what I’m going there to do.” 

“ How long a drive is it ? ” Dick asked resignedly. 

“ It’s about two hundred and seventy miles. If we can start by 
one or two, bar accidents we ought to be in Madrid by noon.” 

“The royal bull-fight’s to-morrow,” answered Dick. “Al- 
though the wedding’s next day, and the invitations have 
been out a fortnight, Carmona and Lady Monica are bound 

341 


342 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

to be there, as it’s a royal invitation show; that means a 
command.” 

“ Very well,” said I. “ Since it may be as difficult to reach her 
in Madrid as in Seville and Granada, I shall wait outside the 
entrance to the bull-ring, and as she’s about to go in, she 
shall see me and hear the whole truth. Don’t look as if you 
thought it would do no good, Dick; if she’s promised to marry 
Carmona in spite of all, it’s because he has made her think he can 
ruin me if she refuses. Pilar’s instinct is right, I know; and now 
for the first time I understand why Carmona didn’t denounce 
me to the police as Casa Triana, when Monica refused to keep 
her engagement with him, as I’m sure she did. No doubt he told 
her lies — that I could be imprisoned — for years, perhaps. And 
his wounded hand — what an opportunity for him ! All ! he 
wouldn’t waste it. He’d make her believe I stabbed him in the 
cathedral that night. How plausible! And as he’s been very ill, 
can’t you imagine what her fears for me must have been ? Dick, I 
regard her coming marriage as a proof of love, not of indiffer- 
ence.” 

“ I’m ready to agree with you,” said Dick. “ But you’re risking 
your life to prove it.” 

“Nonsense,” I answered. “The thought that I’m free, that 
I’m going to her, and that at last I have Carmona in my hand, 
will give me strength enough to get through.” 

Dick raised his eyebrows, but did not answer. He was collect- 
ing bread and meat on a plate, to leave for the man upstairs. 

Five minutes later we were out of the house and in the street. 
In front of the miller’s premises Ropes was walking up and down. 
He did not say much when he saw that Dick had a companion ; 
but as he wrung the hand I held out to him, I heard him breath- 
ing hard, and he swore under his breath when he saw my face 
by the light of a street lamp. 

It was the look on his which made me realize, as Dick’s per- 
suasions had not, that I must delay long enough to be made again 
into some semblance of a sane man. An hour more before getting 


343 


THROUGH THE NIGHT 

on the road would not endanger success, though it would try 
my patience. A quarter of a mile’s walk to the garage was a 
sharper test of my strength than I would confess; but when 
Ropes had roused the watchman, filled the good old Gloria with 
petrol, and started her up the hill, the rush of pure night air gave 
me life. 

At the hotel, we walked in without waking the dozing con- 
cierge. Dick made me free of his things; and when, between us, 
we had finished my toilet, he admitted that I was not as appall- 
ing an object as he had thought. He changed his wet clothes, left 
a note for the landlord, and it was not yet two o’clock when we 
started, Ropes driving, Dick with me in the tonneau. 

“To Madrid, top speed, quickest way,” was the word; and I 
hoped for a non-stop run, or as near it as possible. 

The quickest way was by Jaen, a road which none of us knew, 
and the starlit sky was obscured by dark clouds which heralded 
a summer thunder-storm. As Ropes steered across the Vega 
towards that gap in the mountains which is the door of the north, 
there came a waterspout of rain on the roof. Thunder drowned 
the purr of the motor, and a flash of lightning every other moment 
dimmed the flying circle of our acetylenes. There had been rain 
more than once of late, and this deluge made the road, already 
bad, soft and greasy as an outworn sponge. The Gloria waltzed 
and slipped in a mass of brown porridge, but Ropes knew that 
we were to drive against time, and, throwing caution to the wind, 
tore through the treacherous mud as if to win the cup in a great 
race. 

We flung Granada behind us, dashing in among the foothills 
of the mountains, mounting a slippery defile, with the rain like 
whips lashing our faces. Orchards flashed by; there was a rock 
tunnel, where the lights shone fiercely on rough-hewn stone, and 
the thrum of the motor became a roar. 

Out again, and still up, the beams from our lamps shooting 
across vineyards, plantations of figs and pomegranates, and 
striking silver from the curves of the Guadalbullon River. A 


344 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


glimpse of an old castle commanding a dark gorge, and we were 
at Jaen; then, presently, the road became familiar, for we had 
travelled it before. At this very comer we had stopped to ask the 
way of men who carried strange implements like fire-extinguish- 
ers, for this was Bailen; but now, instead of receiving our first 
glimpse of Andalucia, we were leaving it behind. 

Eighty miles out of two hundred and seventy we had come, 
though the pace had not been good. Still the rain was ceasing, 
and we could make up for lost time, as country traffic had not 
begun yet. 

La Carolina, Santa Elena ; the road was mounting for the well- 
remembered defile of Despenaperros. Hoot! went the siren, 
screaming along the face of tremendous cliffs, and a louder 
shriek rang up as if an echo. A line of fire down in the gorge 
meant the train from Madrid to Seville. It glittered like a string 
of stars drawn across a spider’s-web viaduct, then vanished into 
a tunnel, while we swept on towards the plains of La Mancha, 
Ropes crouched like a goblin over his wheel. 

Rain again, blurring villages, and sweeping through tne stone 
streets of a town : fields once more, and at last Manzanares. Tne*e 
Dick insisted that we should stop for food, lest strength fail me 
when I should need it most; but I could not bear to go back to the 
Jonda I knew, to see the pretty girls there look at my pale face 
with shocked eyes, perhaps to have them question me about the 
“white and gold angel.” 

It was eight o’clock when we got away from the cafe, where 
we had spent some twenty minutes ; and the road was no longer 
clear. We were obliged to moderate our speed, and lost more 
time than we could afford getting on to Aranjuez. 

“ Do your best now, Ropes,” I was saying, when the Gloria — 
for once perverse — burst a tyre with a loud explosion. Ropes 
threw me a rueful look. 

“ I’d hoped to get through without trouble, sir,” he said, “ but 
the car’s lain up for more than five weeks, and there was no time 
last night to look her over.” 


S45 


THROUGH THE NIGHT 

“You’ve done splendidly,” I assured him. “Fll get out with 
Mr. Waring and stretch my legs.” 

I was glad to walk, and still more glad to feel that instead of 
being exhausted as Dick had prophesied, strength seemed com- 
ing back. As we strolled up and down, so sure was I of Dick’s 
sympathy that I began to talk about my hopes and fears. He did 
not disappoint me, but once or twice he answered absent-mind- 
edly, with a far-off look in his eyes, and suddenly, with a pang 
of remorse, I remembered that I had not once referred to the 
progress of his love affairs. My own had preoccupied me to the 
exclusion of everything outside, and I had spoken of Pilar’s only 
in connection with Monica. 

Anathematizing myself aloud as an ungrateful and ungracious 
brute, I asked if Pilar had made up her mind. 

“You needn’t blame yourself,” he said. “All this time she’s 
kept me on tenter-hooks, because, though she admitted liking 
me, she couldn’t reconcile her heart with her conscience. I got 
the dear old Cherub’s blessing, and flaunted it in her face; but 
that wasn’t enough. I also argued that it was her duty to marry 
me and try to make me as good as herself, but she seemed to 
think it might work out the other way. Then you disappeared , 
and the last word she said was that if I found you, she’d take it as 
a sign that San Cristobal wanted the match; seems he’s a match- 
making saint, when he’s in Spain, as well as a motoring one. So, 
you see, she’ll have to keep her promise now; and I’ll owe my 
happiness to you.” 

“ I haven’t come back to life in vain, then,” I said. “ It will be 
a good moment for me, whatever happens, when I see my litt! e 
sister Pilar again.” 

“ She’ll be at the royal bull-fight,” Dick sighed. 

“ I thought she hated bull-fights — for Vivillo’s sake.” 

“ It’s for Vivillo’s sake she’s going. She’s moved heaven and 
earth to get invitations.” 

“And she’s succeeded.” 

“ Thereby hangs a tale. But I’m not going to bother you with it.” 


34G 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

I insisted, urging him the more to atone for past carelessness. 

“Well, then,” he said with another sigh, “ Vivillo’s fifth bull 
in the royal fight to-day.” 

I was shocked, knowing how Pilar loved the noble brown 
beast, and how she had counted on possessing him. But, if I had 
had my wits about me, I might have guessed last night how 
matters stood. Dick had told me then that, in that impromptu 
scene between Carmona and the O’Donnels, with Seville railway 
station for the stage, “the name of Vivillo had unfortunately 
come up.” Now, Dick explained that Carmona had caught at 
the girl’s hasty words, had written his agent at the ganaderia 
instructing him not to part with the bull at any price, no matter 
how far negotiations had gone with Colonel O’Donnel. A day 
or two later the agent was directed by telegram to send Vivillo 
immediately to Madrid, as the Duke had offered him as a gift 
for the great show of the royal bull-fight. This news had come 
to Pilar at Granada in an ill-spelled, but well-meaning letter 
from Mateo, the ganadero. 

“ It was sheer spite,” went on Dick, “ and Pilar was broken- 
hearted. If she hadn’t blurted out Vivillo’s name in a temper, the 
bull might have been safe. Carmona wouldn’t have interested 
himself, as he trusts his agent in all business matters. It’s true 
several of the grandee owners of bull-farms have been asked to 
gave each a picked bull for the royal fight, which is expected to 
be the grandest affair of the generation ; but Carmona could as 
well have given another instead of Vivillo.” 

“It’s like him,” I said. “Poor Pilar!” 

“She’s simply ill. But queerly enough, she hasn’t given up 
hope yet — or hadn’t when she wrote, and enclosed an invitation- 
ticket she’d contrived to get for me. She begged me to come if I 
could, and ‘see her through,’ though I haven’t the vaguest notion 
what she means. All I know is, she and the Cherub have been 
doing everything they could till the last minute to make an ex- 
change of bulls. The dear old chap rushed off to Madrid, as I 
said, to stir up the police in your affair; and Pilar hoped she 


I THROUGH THE NIGHT 347 

* might get a chance to see Lady Monica, and ask what the dickens 
she meant by throwing you over. But any spare time the two had, 
I guess they’ve put in for Yivillo. They bought a fine Muira bull, 
at a tiptop price, and offered it to the authorities in exchange for 
Vivillo, who has been at pasture for the last ten days, recruiting 
after being boxed up for his long railroad journey. Whether 
Carmona had a hand in that part or not, anyhow nothing could 
be done.” 

“ And Pilar is going to see her pet die ! ” I exclaimed. 

w I can’t understand the Cherub allowing that,” said Dick. “ I 
•r .went to a bull-fight with him the day after I got back to Seville. 
Jove, it was a sickener, though there were some fine moments, 
I admit; and I can understand how Spaniards, brought up to 
understand every stroke, every move, think it fine sport. But it 
isn’t sport for amateurs, and I haven’t been able to swallow beef 
since ; feel as if I’d been on visiting terms with it. Last touch of 
horror, each bull having a name. Great Scott ! how would it feel 
to be as intimate as that with sheep and chickens, so you could 
speak of frying Lottie for breakfast, or grilling Maud with peas 
for lunch ? Of course, the royal bull-fight will be wonderful — 
something only seen when a Spanish king marries — but I hate 
the thought of Pilar being there.” 

“ Her father’ll be with her,” I tried to console him. 

“ No, he won’t. His seat’s in a box. Hers has been given in 
Tendido Number 9, a space set apart for the senoritas de la 
aristocracia to sit together, in smart dresses and mantillas, as if 
they were part of the show. 

“ Perhaps Monica will be there,” I said quickly. 

“ Not she. The Duke and Duchess of Carmona and the Duke’s 
fiancee and her mother will be in a box next the royal bride and 
bridegroom; Pilar heard that, and wrote me. You see, they’re in 
high favour at Court now, and Carmona’s ambition will be satis- 
fied at last. The new Duchess is to be a lady-in-waiting, and 
take up her duties when the King and Queen come back from 
their honeymoon. 


348 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“ She never will take them up as Duchess of Carmona,” said I. 

“ Car ready,” announced Ropes, who had made record time in 
changing an inner tube, and was panting with his exertions. 

But where was San Cristobal to-day — on this day of all others, 
when his services were needed ? We had not gone half a mile 
when there came a whizz, and a grinding noise which meant a 
broken chain. Ropes grew pale and bit his lip. In his overpower- 
ing anxiety for me he was losing nerve. 

“ Never mind mending it here,” I said. “ Tighten up the axle, 
and go on with one sprocket only. We can get into the town that 
way, and find a machine-shop.” 

We did find one; but we were kept a full hour in Aranjuez; nor 
could we make good going afterwards as we approached the 
capital. The road was covered with vehicles, and packed as we 
neared Madrid ; for every soul not bidden to the great bull-fight 
wished to see the favoured ones who were, and to applaud the 
King and Queen who by their courage two days before had won 
double popularity. 

It was almost beyond endurance to be caught in the pack, and 
to know that there was no way out, except to move with the 
throng; nevertheless, it had to be endured. And time went on. 

We had hoped to ran into some hole or comer as near as might 
be to the royal entrance of the Plaza de Toros, before the crowd 
began to pour in; but an hour struck as we crept into the great 
sunlit plaza — four o’clock; the time appointed for the pageant to 
begin. 


XLI 


THE FIFTH BULL; AND AFTER 

H UNDREDS — thousands, it seemed — of automo- 
biles and carriages were before us; and as the Glo- 
ria was stopped by the stopping of others in front, 
a shout rang up to the sky, from behind the high 
brown walls of the bull-ring. It was the welcome which the pub- 
lic gave their King and his bride as they appeared in the royal 
box. 

We were too late to intercept Carmona; for as the royalties 
had taken their places, he was certain to be already in his, whh 
his fiancee by his side. 

Covered with dust, burnt by the sun which had shone hotly 
since Manzanares, all but spent with fatigue, I leaned back in 
my seat. For a moment I did not hear what Dick was saying, 
although I was conscious that he spoke; but suddenly the mean- 
ing of his words broke in on my tired brain. 

“ It’ll be two hours before the King and Queen leave their 
box and lesser folks can move, ” he said. “ I’m not going to have 
you sitting here in the heat and dust . 99 

“ I must wait till they come out, ” I answered dully. u It’s the 
only way.” 

“No, it isn’t. I told you Pilar’d sent me a ticket. The card 
says ‘ sombra 9 so the seat’s in the shade all right, and you’re 
going to have it. ” 

“ But you ? ” I said. “ Pilar would never forgive me — 99 
“ She’d never forgive me if I didn’t hand it over to you. But 
I’ll get in somehow. It can cost me fifty dollars if it likes to slip 

349 


850 THE CAR OF DESTINY 

past a policeman, but I guess the price won’t stop me. I don’t 
mind if I stand up in the callijon. I’m tall enough to see all I 
want, and more; and if a bull jumps over the barrera , as one did 
at Seville the other day, my legs are long enough to save me. ” 

Ropes was to stay with the car and wait until we came again. 
Before that time my fate would be decided. Nothing could keep 
me from meeting Monica now; and nothing should keep her 
from me, if she loved me. If not — if after all I had been dream- 
ing, why, she would be the Duchess of Carmona to-morrow. 

Under horses’ noses, between backs and bonnets of motors, 
we edged our way through the dense crowd of vehicles and 
people massed together on the baking plain outside the bull- 
ring. The circle which had been cleared for royalty had filled 
again now, like a sandbank which has caved in upon itself ; but 
the spectacle on the other side of those steep brown walls had 
begun, and the main entrance was comparatively clear. 

Armed with the ticket engraved with the magic words “ Cor- 
rida Real ” over a black and white sketch of a mounted picador, 
I was allowed to enter. But when I had passed along a corridor 
and through a door which opened into a crowded tendido , I 
heard Dick’s voice at my ear. “Only twenty -five dollars after 
all,” said he, “and I can sit on the steps. Grand! We’re next 
to Tendido Number 9. 1 see Pilar; look — close to the end, front 
row. 

After the silent rooms of the old Moorish house and the little 
patio with its tinkling fountain, the brilliant light and colour, 
the confused sounds and movement, the vast size of the bull- 
ring struck me fiercely between the eyes, bewildering sight and 
sense. 

Seats were valuable in the tendidos for this great day, when 
almost every place meant a royal favour; but we were late, and 
instead of moving on to search for my twelve inches of plank or 
stone, I was thankful to squeeze in close to the entrance. I did 
not see Colonel O’Donnel, and though I was close to the famous 
Tendido Number 9 (which must have held every eye till the 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 351 

royalties came), I forgot to look for Pilar in that white-and-rose 
garden of Spanish loveliness. 

The first act of the great royal bull-fight had begun. Twenty 
glittering, spangled espadas marched with elastic steps into the 
ring, followed by the yellow-trousered picadors on their sorry 
horses. The three gala coaches carrying the distinguished 
amateur picadors and their ducal patrons who graced this 
marriage feast, still circled picturesquely in the arena, making 
a pageant of the Middle Ages. The sun blazed on nodding 
ostrich plumes, gold embroidered hammercloths, dazzling 
liveries, powdered heads, and splendid horses in quaint harness, 
rich with gold and jewels. The three Dukes, owners of the 
coaches, had introduced the cavaliers they patronized to the 
King-President; the bride-Queen in her white mantilla and 
flowers of Spanish colours stood bowing in the glass frame of the 
royal box. Gaily decorated palcos , tendidos , grados y tier upon 
tier, half in sun, half in shadow, rose above the huge ring like 
so many terraced flower-beds, dazzling with the gold lace of 
uniforms and the bright tints of women’s dresses softened by 
white mantillas. Over all was a fluttering of fans, like thousands 
of hovering butterflies; and a hum floated up loud as the hum- 
ming of a million bees, to the blue dome of sky, where English 
and Spanish flags waved together. 

Mechanically my eyes took in the splendid scene, as tney 
searched for Monica; and finding her, for a time saw nothing 
else. 

She was in a box near the royalties, and sat between her 
mother and the Duchess, with Carmona and some man whom I 
did not know, behind them. She was in a white dress and white 
mantilla, with pink and white malmaisons in her hair; and her 
face was pathetically pale in its frame of falling lace. In her 
hand was a fan with which to shut out such horrors of the fight 
as none but Spanish women bom and bred dare trust themselves 
to see. My place was distant and far below; yet my eyes were 
keen, and it seemed to me that she looked thin and frail, though 


352 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


very beautiful. If for an instant, since Dick broke the news to 
me, I had doubted the loyalty of her heart, the sight of her sad 
young face would have driven doubt away. I was more than ever 
certain that in promising to marry Carmona she thought to save 
me from punishment threatened by him. 

Neither he nor she guessed that I was near. But where did 
she believe me to be? Perhaps Carmona had said that for her 
sake he had let me fly danger after stabbing him in the cathedral, 
by hurrying back to England. 

The Duke was leaning forward to speak to her. She did not 
look up at him, but let her eyes listlessly travel over the vast 
audience. I thought they lingered on Tendido Number 9, draped 
with flowered shawls of Andalucia, and crowded with pretty 
women. Suddenly she blushed, and turned away. I looked where 
she had looked, and knew what had brought the blood to her 
cheeks. Pilar, in rose colour, with a white mantilla and the ortho- 
dox malmaisons, of pink and crimson, was gazing up at the 
Carmona box, an imploring expression on her face. Pilar, too, 
was pale and thin. I realized more and more that nearly six 
weeks had been struck out of my life. 

Each of the three coaches had in its turn stopped under the 
royal box, while a ducal patron presented his cavalier to the 
young King and his bride; now, the ring was being cleared as 
the magnificent amateur picadors mounted their horses, which 
had been led round by squires in the quaint dress of 1630. One 
of four dignified alguaziles in black velvet and lace doffed his 
plumed hat to the King as President of the fight, asking the key 
of the bull’s cell. Down it flashed, while the music stopped as if 
awed into silence, and the alguazil spurred his stallion across 
the arena to fling into the montera of el Buholero , janitor of the 
bull cells, the key he had received. 

“Vivillo is fifth bull,” I said to myself, repeating Dick’s 
words; and there, too, was his name on the programme of the 
fight. Pilar’s favourite had still a little time to draw the breath 
of life, stamping in the gloom of his narrow toril. Not yet had 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 353 

that untamed neck of his been stung by the rosetted dart flaunting 
his owner’s colours ; and much was to happen in the arena before 
Vivillo’s brave beauty would call for the clapping of twice 
tnirteen thousand hands. 

First, the three noble amateurs, with their long sharp javelins, 
must in turn play picador with grace to please a queen-bride, 
and save his horse’s sides from goring horns. Then, when three 
bulls had died according to ancient, chivalrous custom (if the 
cavalier’s skill served), without slaughter of horses, the corrida 
would go on in ordinary Spanish fashion of to-day, with all its 
sensational moments and its tragedies, until — Vivillo’s time 
came. 

As for me, I must sit until the leave-taking of the royalties 
and royal guests should empty also the Carmona box. I won- 
dered, as the first bull rushed into the ring, whether the King 
and Queen would still be in their places when the door should 
open for Vivillo, or whether their departure would rob Carmona 
of the spectacle of his mean revenge. I hoped it would, for I 
could not bear that he should see the suffering he had inflicted 
on Pilar for my sake, and revel in it. Still, when he went I must 
go too ; and I felt vaguely that I ought to be near Pilar — my 
loyal sister Pilar — during the act which would be tragical 
for her. 

As Dick said, there were brilliant moments in the bull-fight; 
and the amateurs acquitted themselves in a way to deserve the 
enthusiasm of the crowd. The beautiful young Queen threw a 
jewel to each torero who finished a bull after the javelins of the 
cavaliers had done their work; and when the last of the brave 
trio had bowed himself out of the ring, began that phase of the 
sport which Spaniards know and love. The blindfolded horses 
trotted in, ridden by professional picadors with indifferent, 
suilen faces; and then a stir of excitement ran from tier to tier 
of the audience, as a breeze blows over a wheat-field. The first 
part had been but a pretty play; now was coming the real thing, 
with the best bulls, and the best espadas of Spain. 


354 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


The bride in her white mantilla looked down at her fan, and 
counted the gilded ivory sticks, when the first bull charged the 
first horse. She, the Queen of Spain, must not seem to flinch, 
though her English eyes had never seen such crimson sights as 
these. This was the national sport; she must learn to understand 
that when men yelled, and even women cried “ Buena vara ! ” 
it was not with joy because a horse’s side was tom, but because 
a picador had made the perfect thrust. She must seem to love 
what the people loved, if she wished them to love her; but not 
far off sat another young girl in white, who had no such com- 
pelling obligations. 

Monica, warned beforehand perhaps, when she was forced 
to come, put up her fan whenever a bull rushed towards a horse, 
and would no doubt have kept it there had not her mother 
spoken to her more than once, peremptorily. As for Pilar, though 
she did not lift her fan, she seemed to see nothing, for she sat 
with her head bowed, only starting and looking up when the hom 
sounded for a new bull. 

At last there was no more question as to whether the King 
and Queen would stay to see Vivillo play his part. The fourth 
bull had been dragged away dead by the team of tasselled mules, 
and the piercing blast, which had grown to sound tragic in my 
ears, summoned Vivillo, all unknowing, to his fate. And the 
royalties kept their seats, though the afternoon waned, and 
shadow — like the creeping shadow of death — darkened two- 
thirds of the arena. 

So keen was my sympathy with Pilar that I felt my throat 
contract and my mouth go dry. So must it be with her at this 
moment which called her brave favourite to his death; so, like 
mine, only faster and more thickly, must her heart be beating. 

Could she, after all, bear the ordeal ? Would she not turn and 
hurry out before the first picador drew the blood she had tried 
so hard to save? But no; she sat still, her eyes large, her face 
blanched, and one hand twisted in the folds of her lace mantilla 
as it rose and fell on her breast. 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 355 

Before the dead was well out of the ring, and his red track 
sanded, the door of the toril was thrown open for the fifth bull, 
said never to be a coward. It was a compliment to Carmona and 
to Vivillo to be chosen for this position on the programme, 
since it has become a proverb that the pick of the corrida should 
be fifth on the list. It was also a compliment to Carmona that 
the King should wait to see how his Vivillo would die. 

The bunolero sprang back as he opened the door, retiring 
more hastily than was his wont into the space between the bar- 
riers out of the bull’s way. It was as if he, too, expected the new- 
comer to be something beyond the ordinary in ferocity or cun- 
ning; for Carmona’s bulls, like those of the Muira breed, are 
famed for their terrible habit of ignoring the cloak and charging 
at the body of the man who holds it. 

Some bulls had rushed into the arena and blindly attacked 
the first object which came within their dazed vision; but my 
heart had time to beat twice before that noble form, which I had 
last seen in peaceful pasture, deigned to show itself at the dark 
exit of the toril. 

It was as if Vivillo wished to show scorn of the puny prick 
caused by that fish-hook dart hidden by a rosette of green and 
purple ribbon, supreme indifference to the strange scene which 
burst upon eyes accustomed for long to darkness, and haughty 
superiority to thirst and hunger which irritated weaker animals 
to frenzy. No one, seeing the great bull stand with his head up, 
questioning, surprised, could have mistaken his attitude for 
cowardice. There was something ominous, even terrible, in 
his pause; and it gave the waiting audience time to appreciate 
the magnificence of his proportions, the length and dagger- 
keenness of his horns, the rippling of the muscles under the 
brown satin of his skin, in the great chest and lean flanks. 

“This is not a bull, — it is a mountain, ” shouted a voice; and 
other voices praised Vivillo’s perfections, so soon to vanish off 
the earth. “ Grandly armed ! ” “ He would face a battalion ! ” 
‘Let Fuentes look out for himself!” 


356 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 


For Fuentes, best espada left in Spain, bravest fighter of bulls 
according to the classic methods, was to give Yivillo the death 
stroke, when picadores and banderilleros had done with him. 

The yells of the vast multitude in an instant changed the 
bull’s proud astonishment to fury. He seemed to realize that 
this new world, so different from the old sweet, green one, was 
a world of enemies, every soul against him, and he was ready 
to fight them all to the death. He neither pawed the sand nor 
bellowed, for these are puerile betrayals of temper to which the 
noblest bulls do not descend. Like a tornado he swept across 
the ring, killed a horse with a single thrust, sent the picador 
crashing against the barter a; and quick as a wild cat, strong as 
an African lion, wheeled to lift another animal and its rider on 
his horns. Half the length of the arena he trotted, upholding 
both, whilst the audience rose to him and yelled admiration of 
his savage strength. 

“ This is like the good old days. You don’t see such a bull in 
ten thousand, ” men said to each other, as Vivillo flung the dead 
horse on the sand, tumbling the picador over the barrera into the 
calli jon, and raced off gamely to a third duel. 

When he had killed three horses (knowing no distinction 
between their innocence and man’s cruelty, after his shoulders 
had felt the lance) he was apparently as fresh as when he left 
the toril. At this stage of the death drama most bulls would be 
breathing hard; but though the brown velvet of Vivillo’s neck 
was stained dark crimson, neither fatigue nor pain made his 
strong heart labour. 

More horses were given him, to die as others had died, all 
save one, which the bull refused to touch because it was of the 
colour he knew and was friendly with at home. It was led at 
last unscathed; but Vivillo had now six horses to his credit, and 
his popularity with the audience had already risen far beyond 
that of his predecessors. Still, his activity, instead of diminishing, 
seemed to grow with the rising fever of his fury. 

In ordinary cases the trumpet would now have rounded for 


357 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 

the second act, dismissing the picadors and summoning the 
banderilleros ; but Vivillo in his present condition was too formid- 
able a foe to be teased by the bravest with barbed, beribboned 
darts ; and “ Caballos — caballos 1 ” was the cry. 

Four more sacrificial beasts were brought, and he dealt with 
all, so nearly goring one picador that an espada , dashing to the 
rescue, was raced to the barrier, and had his stocking crimsoned 
as he vaulted over it. 

Vivillo’s list of victims had now swelled to ten, and though 
he had accepted thirty-three varas , or thrusts of the lance, his 
great shoulders scarcely shuddered under the red rain of his 
blood. Still, the first act could not be further prolonged. The 
sharp, cruel blast of the comet gave the signal for the second to 
begin. 

Dick and I had not spoken, and I dared not look towards 
Pilar. As the crowd shouted an imperious demand for the great 
Fuentes to come into the ring as banderillero , it seemed to me 
that centuries were swept away by their wild voices; that this 
was not the bull-ring of Madrid, but the Coliseum of Rome. 

Vivillo waited, his head up, undaunted; and though his face 
and attitude were menacing, the brown eyes, set wide apart, 
were radiantly innocent. He seemed a creature made up of 
nature’s best, a product of blue sky, sweet meadow, and pure 
air; of his kind, perfection. Did he think now of his old home in 
the rich pasture-land, and the tinkle of the friendly cabestros 9 
bells ? If he did, the home-sick thought did not make him fear 
to face what was to come. Never once had he followed the 
example of two or three among his predecessors, and turned to- 
wards the shut door of the toril as if for refuge. Always he had 
faced the enemy; and now he rushed to play with his horns for 
the glittering banderillas which waited for his shoulders. 

Fuentes was consenting to the wish of the public, but two 
ordinary banderilleros were to precede him. The famous matador, 
who was afterwards to kill this most popular bull of the day, 
would plant the last pair of the six. 


358 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

The first man, sparkling in satin and silver, lifted on high his 
two barb-tipped sticks, gaily ornamented with tinsel paper, and 
called Vivillo from a distance. His mocking voice infuriated the 
bull, who rushed upon him; then, as he swayed lightly aside, 
it was all he could do to save himself from the great animal’s 
sudden, swift turn, without placing either of his banderillas. 
Again and again the play was repeated, but the audience were 
saying that Vivillo was becoming crafty as Shylock. At last one 
gay-coloured stick — “ half a pair ” — hung from Vivillo’s 
shoulders; twice and three times the attempt was made before 
the “pair” was complete; and the second banderillero succeeded 
no better. But as Fuentes entered the ring, condescending to 
play at the game of which he was once master, there went up a 
roar of applause. Fuentes never failed; and that trick of his — 
planting both feet on a handkerchief, nor deigning to move 
save for a swaying of the body while planting the two barbs — 
was famous, a sight worth seeing when the bull was even half 
as good as this. But for once even Fuentes’ brilliant tactics were 
at a loss. Vivillo had brains, and used them. He used his eyes, 
too, before charging, which not one out of five hundred bulls 
can do; and if Fuentes played with him, he played also, a game 
whose zest came from a hint of pressing danger. Once it seemed 
that Vivillo would be over the barrera , in the callijon , and there 
was a stampede of all the onlookers there. Again he threatened 
to demolish the w r ooden barrier with his horns, and there was a 
wilder scramble than before. But the banderillas were planted 
at last, and the blood on Vivillo’s brown shoulders lay like a 
crimson cloak. The great round of applause was as much for 
the bull as for the banderillero ; and every face in the audience 
was tense with excitement as the horn sounded for the death 
scene. With such a king of the arena anything might happen. 
It was well that a master like Fuentes was the espada who would 
deal with him, or he might deal with the espada. 

And so it was to end in the usual way, and after a few more 
brilliant moments of play the brave heart of the beast must feel 


359 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 

the sword. I had known, of course, that it must be so, and yet 
until now it had not seemed a cold certainty. Perhaps I had 
vaguely hoped that Vivillo would vault the barrera , and refuse 
to be coaxed back again ; but, even if he had, he could not have 
saved himself, and might have had to die some death less glorious 
than by the espada’s blade. 

Fuentes was bowing under the royal box, asking the King- 
President’s gracious permission to kill Vivillo as so noble a bull 
should be killed. Then, sword and red muleta in hand, he went 
to meet Vivillo, an alert look on his face; for this was no common 
res , but a brave and wary foeman, most worthy of his steel. 

The deep silence of the thirteen thousand spectators was as 
great a compliment as could be paid to man or bull, and Fuentes 
knew it. He knew that the audience expected such play, before 
the death stroke, as had not been seen in Spain for years, and 
he did not mean to disappoint them. Still marvellously fresh, 
considering his doughty feats and loss of blood, Vivillo showed 
no distress. But he had become visibly thoughtful, as if realizing 
at last that this was no wild sport, but the end of all things. 

Fuentes waved off his men — “ fuera gente , ” knowing that 
this sign of serene courage would thrill thirteen thousand hearts, 
already warm for him, and adjusted his red muleta to the small, 
spiked stick which secured it. Then, graceful as a wave which 
rears its crest to breaking-point, he moved towards the bull, 
wary yet defiant. 

Vivillo, as if to prove the power and fulness of his lungs, 
bellowed for the first time since he had entered the arena, as he 
hurled his dark body upon the torero , his huge head down. The 
muleta met his horns and smothered them, to be swept up and 
away, while Fuentes stood motionless, smiling. But to the agita- 
tion of the audience, instead of following the muleta' s scarlet 
wave, Vivillo halted with horns lowered to gore, and charged 
the man. 

Lightly Fuentes stepped aside, tempting the bull again with 
the muleta; but Vivillo would have none of it. Then came such 


360 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

give and take between man’s skill and brute’s ferocious cunning 
that the audience lost all self-consciousness in watching. 

Nearer and nearer Fuentes and Vivillo drew to the barrier. 
Now they were close to Tendido Number 9, and mechanically 
I lifted my eyes from the arena to find Pilar. She was no longer 
to be seen there, and I thought that she had fled before the 
death. But as Vivillo made a lunge which all but caught Fuentes, 
a door in the barrier flashed open, flashed shut, and a girl stood 
in the ring. 

It was Pilar in her white dress and lace mantilla. She had left 
her seat, gone down alone to the entrance of the tendido, had 
waited her chance, and slipped into the arena. But she could 
hide no longer. At sight of the girl’s figure, white against the 
dark red barrier, a wild, warning shout went up. Two or three 
of Fuentes’ cuadrillo ran towards her, but with a passionate ges- 
ture she motioned them off, holding out her arms to the royal 
box. 

“ Pardon, pardon for Vivillo, the brave bull ! ” she cried. And 
I knew now that this was what she had meant from the first. 
If Vivillo were brave, if he won the respect of the King and the 
crowd by supreme strength and courage, she had hoped to save 
him as other bulls had been saved from time to time, since, in 
earliest days, Spain had followed Roman customs. I had read 
of those pardoned bulls and heard of them from my father — one 
hero, may be, in ten years. For this she had come; for this she 
had sat watching Vivillo’s blood flow, waiting until he had 
proved himself so brave that thirteen thousand voices might 
join hers in asking the bull’s life of the King-President. 

At sound of his name, cried in those dear, familiar tones as if 
calling him from across the valley of death, Vivillo raised his 
head, turned his back for the first time upon the enemy, and 
bounded towards the girl. Horrified, the audience shrieked at 
her, at him, waving their hands, throwing hats into the ring in 
front of the bull as if to distract him from a helpless victim. But 
they need not have feared. His sides heaving under their mantle 


361 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 

of blood, Vivillo’s rush subsided to a trot, as in the home-pasture 
far away. Half -blinded with fury as he had been a moment ago, 
the kind young face and voice loved by him since he was a calf 
at his mother’s side brought Vivillo back to himself. Hope must 
have quickened in his heart as he heard that call, which in old 
days had meant choice food and sweet caresses. It was the call 
of life, and he answered it with gratitude. 

How the men yelled, and the women laughed and cried as the 
great bull laid his armed head against the pale girl’s arm! How 
they clapped when he ate something which she held to him in 
her hand, and how they shouted to the King — “ Pardon — par- 
don for this brave bull. Pardon for El Vivillo ! ” 

Dick was at her side now. He must have leaped the barrier; 
but I did not see him until he was there, and the Cherub close 
behind him. Fuentes was under the royal box, asking if the 
prayer for the bull’s life were to be heard; and, amid tumultuous 
cheering, pardon was granted, with the jewel he should have won 
by giving Vivillo death instead of life. The bull was saved. 
Panting, he stood by Pilar’s side, his blood staining the creamy 
whiteness of her mantilla. Even when the tame cabestro came, 
with tinkling bell, to entice Vivillo away, she could hardly bear 
to leave him, though she well knew that he was safe; that his 
wounds would be skilfully tended; that he would be restored 
to health, and that, in very shame (when the story was made 
known), Carmona must surrender the bull to her. 

But the King and Queen were on their feet bowing to the 
crowd, their relatives and guests standing behind them. The 
Queen turned and murmured to the King, who spoke to someone 
I could not see, and an equerry hurried out of the box. A moment 
later the Duke of Carmona, his mother. Lady Vale-Avon, and 
Monica were entering the royal box. Evidently the Queen’s 
wish had been to make some introduction. All chatted together 
for a minute, looking down at the ring, which Vivillo was just 
leaving with the big, brindled cabestro . Probably the King was 
congratulating Carmona on the bull given by him to the Corrila 


3 62 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

Real. Then, having bowed once more to their enthusiastic 
subjects, the royalties prepared to leave the box before the next 
bull should come into the ring. 

I knew that Monica, with Carmona and the others, would 
follow in the train of the King and Queen, that they would go 
out at the royal entrance, and that I must be near if I would have 
my last chance with the girl. But it was a misfortune that she 
should be with the royalties, because, since the catastrophe 
of two days ago, the police of Madrid were taking extra precau- 
tions for the safety of their sovereign and his bride. The ground 
outside the royal entrance had been kept clear of the populace 
when they went in, and would be again when they went out. A 
haggard, hollow-eyed wretch such as I was now would be instant- 
ly suspected and ordered back. 

Yet Monica was to be married to-morrow, and then it would 
be for ever too late. Somehow I must get close enough to speak 
with her, even if the words I had to say were cut short by a bullet. 

Many people were leaving, though more than half the audience 
remained, and I had to fight my way through a crowd that had 
not my reasons for haste. Perhaps a look at my face made them 
give me room, for sooner than I dared hope I was out of the bull- 
ring, and pushing through the dense pack of people who had 
assembled to see the royalties and their guests drive away. I 
had reached the outside rank, when I saw Carmona’s automobile 
coming into place behind the royal carriages and motor-cars. 
Someone had been sent to fetch it here from the other entrance; 
and the Duke of Carmona would be a figure of importance in 
the eyes of all Madrid. 

Civil guards and police were busy keeping the crowd in 
order, with warning gestures pressing rank upon rank back 
upon one another. 

I made no effort to separate myself from the mass, for neither 
the King nor Queen nor Carmona had yet come in sight; and I 
was waiting. But suddenly shouts of “ Viva el Rey — Viva la 
Reina ! ” broke out and swelled. 


363 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 

They were coming. Now they were at the door. I caught sight 
of Carmona, exceedingly handsome in the joy of his great 
triumph. The King paused at the door, and, seeing Carmona near 
by, flung him a kindly last word, with a smile. Carmona stepped 
forward, hat in hand. Monica, with her mother and the Duchess, 
came to a stop close behind. 

My moment had come. I sprang out from the crowd, and had 
taken three steps towards her, when two civil guards had 
me by the shoulders. At the same instant I heard Dick’s voice, 
and knew that he had found his way after me, true as always, 
guessing what I would try to do. 

The sudden movement and buzz in the group round me 
caught Monica’s attention. She looked, and gave a little cry 
as our eyes met across the sunlit, open space. Out came her 
hands, and for an instant I thought she would have run to me; 
but her mother’s quick eyes had identified the man between the 
civil guards, and she seized Monica by the arm. 

“ Get back, ” said one of the civil guards angrily. “No one is 
allowed to go nearer to the King. ” 

“ I must speak to those ladies, ” I said, shaking one shoulder 
free. 

“Another step, and you’ll spend your night between prison 
walls, ” muttered the guard, furious that there should be a scene 
under the eyes of royalty. 

But now the eyes of royalty were upon me, and there was 
recognition in them. He held up his hand imperatively. 

“ Let that gentleman go, ” he said. “ He is a friend of mine. 
Sehores , I am glad to see you again. Have you come to congratu- 
late me on my marriage ? ” 

The guards stepped back; and the King’s question was a 
command. He said “Senores”; therefore he was speaking to 
Dick as well as to me. I walked towards him as he stood ready 
to greet us; and now Dick, who had kept behind in the crowd, 
was at my side. 

Carmona’s face grew scarlet, then yellow-pale. 


364 


THE CAR OF DESTINY 

“ I beg your Majesty’s forgiveness, ” he said, “ but you cannot 
know what I know of this man, or you would not receive him. 
This may be another horrible plot; for he is the Marques de 
Casa Triana, suspected of throwing a bomb in Barcelona some 
years ago, who not only has broken his parole and come secretly 
to Spain, but has been following you about from place to place 
in his motor-car, and — ’* 

The King burst out laughing, in his boyish way. 

“All the better for me if he has, since he has continually 
found the way to do me some good turn. If it hadn’t been for him 
and his motor-car I’m not sure that I would be here — and happy 
— to-day. ” He held out his hand to me. “ So you are the Marques 
de Casa Triana,” he said. “And that was why you wouldn’t 
tell me your name, when your friend let me know I had one 
more thing to thank you for besides those I knew — on the day 
of the brigands ? ” 

He smiled at Dick, who presumed on his notice. 

“ Your Majesty, ” he ventured, “ may I mention the name of 
the man who employed those brigands, not to injure you, but 
one he had already injured — Casa Triana himself ? Well, it’s 
the Duke of Carmona; and when the brigands failed, he tried 
having Casa Triana knocked on the head and shut up in a house 
of his at Granada, so that he could marry the girl who was 
engaged to my friend. You can ask Lady Monica Vale, sir, if 
I’m not telling you the truth — as far as she knows it. ” 

The King, without answering, turned his eyes on Monica. 

“It is true, sir, that we were engaged,” she replied to the 
question in his look. “ I love him still, and only promised to marry 
the Duke because he said, if I did, he would save Ramon from 
imprisonment — and worse. He told me he had helped Ramon 
to get out of Spain to England, when he was on the point of 
being arrested for — something that happened in Seville. Now 
I know it wasn’t true; • — that he — lied, and that he’s been 
horribly treacherous to Ramon, as well as to me. I’ll not keep 
my promise to him to-morrow* or ever. ” 


365 


THE FIFTH BULL ; AND AFTER 

“This seems a strange story, ” said the King. “ I must hear 
it at length, later. But you shall not marry against your wish. 
You shall marry the man you love; we will see to that, whether 
Carmona can clear himself or not. As for my friend Casa Triana, 
I owe him a triple debt. Part of it I can repay by giving him 
certain estates in the South which I believe I’ve been — keeping 
in trust for him. Part I can never repay; and part — well, if I 
can give him a bride who loves him, perhaps he will consider 
himself repaid ? ” 

“ I thank your Majesty a thousand times, ” I said. 

Monica looked at me. She was very pale; but there was heaven 
in her eyes. 

“ Viva el Rey!” shouted Dick; and the crowd, though they 
had not heard or understood what passed, took up the cry with 
all their hearts — 

“Viva el Rey 1” 


THE END 


THE MCCLURE PRESS, NEW YORK 

















SEP 13 1906 







